


Old Tides

by Superbanana



Series: The tides series [1]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bit Dark, F/F, Patsy is complicated, Patsy/Delia end game, Patsys a cop, Poplar is now a seaside town, Romance, Slight horror, Slow Burn, Thrillerish, Uber fiction - Freeform, Whodunnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 293,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superbanana/pseuds/Superbanana
Summary: The whodunnit nobody asked for. Poplar is a sleepy seaside town with a lot of secrets. When the body of a nun washes up on the beach its up to Detective Constable Mount to work it all out. Unfortunately for Patsy, clinging to the world with tired hands, the chain reaction from one dead nun pulls her back into a life she'd prefer to keep buried. Oh, and there's this girl...Amendment:This story is the kind of twisty turny thing that sucks you in, it's sort of like a story black hole but without the bells and whistles of space and all that distracting physics algebra on a comically large blackboard (just to make sure you understand, this isn't in any way sci-if, relax)...It's a whodunnit with a romance thrown in, the whole gang are either nurses, teachers or cops and surprisingly they're all pretty versatile. Ahem, so as I was saying; you should read my fic. Because even if you think you have absolutely no interest in the perceived subject what-so-ever (thank you very much Harold!) when reading this summary you're still, probably, wrong; trust me on this. Seriously. Try the first chapter; what have you got to lose?—Now complete—





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Everybody wants a flame but they don’t want to get burnt
> 
> James Blunt. Bonfire heart.

Sister Winnifred was cold. 

Cold and nervous in fact as she waited anxiously outside the meeting place she'd chosen; swapping her weight from one foot to the other to stay warm and blowing into her hands. 

She'd dressed as subtly as a nun can do in these kind of situations; removing the wimple, veil and coif with a brief tingle of excitement as she'd done it. Now her red hair tumbled out freely onto her shoulder in its customary tight braid. She could feel the weight of it between her shoulder blades as she shuffled left and right like a pendulum of some great ticking clock.

It was all like one of her spy movies; she could barely keep the excitement in. Winnifred guessed she felt at this moment much like James Bond must do before the movie begins and he began the great cat and mouse game to catch the bad guy. He always got them in the end too. So would Winnifred.

In her minds eye she watched herself in dramatic last stands and fast paced car chases. Sister Winnifred often had moments like this; would play out secret roles in her head during compline or recall famous one liners during the hour of silence. She'd once reflected to her sisters over dinner that Gods creations sometimes reflected his own creativity in their endless attempts to make magic on screens and in books.

Sister Evangalina had scoffed at her of course when she'd said it and tersely encouraged her to pay more attention in her religious studies. Sister Evangalina was always scoffing at Winnifred; she found her annoying Winnifred knew, knew too that Evangelina doubted her devotion and abilities. She thought Winnifred was a weak link in the chain.

Not after tonight though. If Winnifred was proved a hero sister Evangelina would never be able to scoff at her again. In her minds eye Winnifred could practically see the headlines in tomorrows newspaper; "Brave nun saves the day". 

The wind howled again and she shivered. Her black dress was far too thin even for the muggy night air, the nuns really did take the vow of poverty seriously after all and it was doing little to keep her warm. It felt strange to wear only half of her usual uniform; although the dress was modestly cut of course there was the possibility she might still pass for a random woman going on a night out by a casual observer. That fact alone was almost as illicit as the whole evening put together.

He said he'd come. He'd promised. He'd just had to find a way to get away he'd said. And now it was late, the sky was inky black and Winnifred was standing on her own waiting for someone who seemed never to arrive.

Nervously, she fingered the wooden cross under her shift. The sea was muffled this far in land but the salt on the wind was still evident whistling through the green and yellow scrub grass along the rocky path she stood on and beyond into the nearby fields. She couldn't be sure but it was creeping up on that she felt as though she was being watched somehow. Her considerable imagination brought forth images of wild panthers no one would admit lived in Britains countryside but everyone knew did. 

"Brave nun saves the day and fights off big cat with her bare hands." Sister Evangalina would be struck dumb in wonder at her sisters hidden depths.

It was at this moment that the hind brain, the bit of cranial space that remembered being a monkey several million years ago, remembered too the sound of the predators breath at its neck and understood danger even if the other brain parts didn't, tugged at a few stray nerves experimentally in Winnifreds head. It occurred to Winnifred, rather belatedly as the shadows darkened around her, that maybe she should have told someone about all of this. Yes, she'd told Him of course. She'd had to. But maybe... perhaps... she should have told someone else?

Something rustled a few feet away in the long grass, Winnifred turned around quickly to see what it was, her heart suddenly beating very fast. There was a silhouette far off. He'd come then? Finally he'd come. Winnifred squinted into the darkness, relaxing as the silhouette began making its way towards her. 

This was a mistake as it turned out. One of several sister Winnifred had made that day. Behind her, from the direction she'd just faced, a second figure, hitherto unseen, unfolded from the surroundings like a blade in a beautifully decorated sword cane, weighing something heavy in their hand.

"Hello?" Winnifred called to the night. The wind blew the hem of her skirt so the fabric rubbed at her legs like the ghost of a caress. 

The shadow behind her struck.

For Winnifred the world ended brutally, without any time left for final words or last stands. This meant there was little time for pain either which Winnifred, one of lifes eternal optimists, probably would have appreciated if she'd been able to realise it. The heavy thing collided with the back of the nuns skull and cracked the flimsy bone apart like a dropped egg. Blood and brain matter splashed out wetly like a broken tap.

The reeds rustled as the body of the nun hit the floor dully, the cross tumbled away from slack fingers and slid along the path into the bushes beyond. 

The body lay crumpled and bleeding from the freshly made wound as two pairs of feet stopped either side looking down at it.

The ground seemed almost to drink Winnifreds blood as the earth took her back.

Just like the good book always said.

\--

Poplar was a small town on the Norfolk coast surrounded by far smaller and much more close knit villages and hamlets on all sides. Its residents, sea dwellers at heart, hugged the beaches, curved around the shaky cliff walls and dipped in-land to become rolling agricultural plains and dark wounds of ploughed fields.

Picturesque was the name coined by the local tourist board to entice holiday makers in during the summer seasons. Some new whip had turned up earlier in the year and started an advertisement campaign to boost the local economy. It had worked well. Too well some might say.

It had been a hot summer this year, the long stretches of sandy beaches inviting and most importantly cheap to cash strapped brits wanting a week away from normality. As a result holiday traffic had become the bane of the police constabularies existance over the last few weeks although everyone knew that the job was only going to get harder for them once the kids broke up from school in less than a months time.

The young families out for a bit of sun and sea were fine, almost sweet if you looked at things like that with the toddlers running into the sea and their parents chasing after them. The teenagers, hens and stag do's, the messy break ups and the bar brawls were far less welcome though.

Some people often commented that a visit to Poplar was like stepping into the past. The cash economy, the fashions, the tea shops and higher percentage of elderly people all left one with the lasting impression that time had stopped somehow. That mental image was encouraged by the locals because it helped with trade and trade meant money and decent coastal defences that were vital when you lived near sedimentary rock based clifftops. No one wanted to lose their homes to the sea after all. Even so it was an inescapable fact that all towns, however picturesque they looked on postcards sent back home to dear old mum, had their little secrets. The lies, the dark histories and sleeping dogs best left untouched.

Patsy knew this only too well. For one thing; she was one of Poplars sleeping dogs. 

Detective Constable Patience Mount sat in the drivers seat of her jeep looking out at the town down the hill. The glow of her cigarette lit up the cab as she relaxed into the comfort of her leather seat with the faint blow from the ancient air conditioning unit spitting out a decidedly half arsed breeze. The sound of the tide a way off soothed her like a lullaby.

She was tired. Hadn't planned on finishing so late this evening. Two hours later than expected as it went because she'd been stupid enough to witness a fight between four young men outside the police stations front door. The idiots had been fighting over a girl two of the guys had an invested interest in apparently and they'd both been with mates when they'd seen each other from opposite ends of the car park. Unfortunately for both them, and more importantly Patsy, the boys had not had the good sense to check where they were before laying into one another. 

As none of them were drunk and Patsy had a ton of work waiting for her tomorrow she'd decided against dumping them in the cells to cool off. Initially only approaching with the intention to tell them to pack it in and bugger off home. This plan had fallen through however when she'd been dealt a stunning blow to the face after someones fist rebounded by accident off another boys kidneys. 

Three of them had fled as she'd staggered slightly, the other one was currently incoherent with pity for himself in the cells. Little shit hadn't helped himself by spitting at the desk sergeant and attempting to get out of holds still wearing a pair of cuffs. Patsy had sat for an hour with an ice pack on her face at her desk feeling frustrated as she'd filled out the statement form and then, before she'd been able to avoid it, someone had told her to go and see the police surgeon for a check over and a statement from him too. Two hours stolen because some teenagers wanted a shag. 

It might have been just a funny story, probably would be in a few days time, but the paperwork did her head in. Unnecessary paperwork was always a personal offence to any cop. It was the proverbial needle in the haystack of The Job. You never quite had it fully in your grasp or control but you certainly got stabbed a few times while groping around for the bugger.

She wasn't done either she admitted to herself guiltily thinking of the foot high pile of cases still on her desk. Six junkies had OD'd this week. Some shit was selling much harder stuff than usual and people were dropping like flies. Patsy had spent so much time in the morgue over the last few weeks she was probably going to have to start chipping in on staffs birthdays if the trend kept up.

It had become a bit of a routine for her to cool off and shut down in the pay per hour car park up the hill. Patsy liked the open spaced solitude and today had been a very long one so she'd driven up after clocking out thinking idly that she might grab a bath and a re-run of game of thrones on the television when she got home.

Her phone had buzzed just as she pulled up. There hadn't been a message as such just an empty text box from an unsaved contact. Patsys knuckles had tightened on the steering wheel as she took it in.

Maybe no bath or tele for her tonight then.

She hadn't hurried or stopped her cigarette though. The messages sender would just have to wait if she was that desperate. Even if she didn't; Patsy didn't really care. Much.

The lights of the main strip with its bars, cheap booze and, no doubts by this late hour, drunk denizens winked up at her. She was so glad she wasn't on nights this week though the extra money was never something to sniff at. Still, she had enough for her plans.

It was Helens birthday next weekend and Patsy had got them tickets to one of the touring musicals. Personally, Patsy hated musicals, found them all a bit too wishy washy and the songs overly pretentious but Helen, despite her outwardly rough and ready appearance, loved them. And so, with gritted teeth, it was to the musical they would go. Patsy had also booked a fancy restaurant Helen had mentioned a few months ago for afterwards too. The kind of place where you had to wipe your feet before you went inside in fear that the floor wood be offended by your common dirt.

She was quietly pleased with her plans so far and she knew Helen would have fun which was always the main thing to Patsy. Even so... was it enough? She would have done more if she thought Helen would have accepted it. She'd briefly considered just going big and booking somewhere hot for them both but common sense had tempered her choices. Helen was a proud woman and would insist on paying her own way. Patsy wouldn't take Helens money if it was thrown at her head and they'd probably argue about it. 

But it was a big birthday after all and Patsy never missed any rare opportunity made available to spoil Helen. Hell, if Helen asked for it Patsy would have given her the shirt off her own back. Good thing Helen never did really and she rarely let Patsy pay either so this weekend was going to be good.

Her phone buzzed again insistently. Another blank message from the same number greeted her as she looked down. Her mood soured as her thoughts drew back from Helen and her weekend plans.

With a sigh Patsy flicked the half smoked ciggy out the window and turned the car around. Her guest couldn't wait apparently. A shame because Patsy could. Sort of.

\--

She pulled up outside her little house about twenty minutes later. It was dark when she got out, there were no lights in the windows to suggest anyone was inside and no lights were in her street. Above her head the stars shone more brightly in the absence of light pollution. Reflexively Patsy stood for a moment looking up for the familiar cluster of stars called the seven sisters.

Astronomy had always been deemed heretical by The Master in the commune growing up. There had been big strapped down blinds on the windows in the dorms and curfew had been half six every night without fail. She hadn't seen the stars until the commune had been freed when she was eleven. The first time she'd looked up and taken them all in she'd been awestruck by the sheer number of brightly shining dots in the sky, too many to count and with that knowledge had come the startling and terrible realisation that she was very small and completely alone in this world. She would always be alone.

Helen had been the first one to give the dots names and stories. She'd pointed out the seven to Patsy one evening and when Patsy had demanded to know more she'd told her the names, digging deeply into her patchy knowledge; Maia, Electra, Alcyone, Taygate, Aster, Calaeno and Merope. Patsy had dutifully memorised them and every time she saw them now she felt as though she was watching old friends from far off.

A good thought that.

Patsys eye was drawn to her front door. To anyone else it might look undisturbed but she knew better. The pot plant with the false bottom had moved a few inches to the left. The spare key had been messily used and replaced. 

Her guest was already here then.

Patsy pushed at the door. It swung open at the lightest touch, the wooden lip bunching against the ever present jumble of junk mail spilling over the edge of the welcome mat and into the cramped hallway. She passed a cursory inspection over the glossy papered adverts for pizza parlours, burger joints, phone networks, political canvassing and bank statements that she never bothered opening as she shut the door behind her and slipped on the chain as quietly as she could.

Amongst the messy pile there wasn't the semi-expected quarterly postcard from her aunt. The last one had been sent nine weeks ago with the stamp postmarked from Cornwall and inexplicable muddy finger prints along one edge. The back had been filled with a few rather rain spotted lines description of the poor weather and its effects on the precocious life in the yurt. Patsy never bothered sending replies having no return address to do so with. Her aunt never stayed anywhere longer than a few days anyway. Gods only knew where the fool was right now. 

The old besom turned up every few years, a mess of rashes and cuts from whatever hijinks she'd stumbled across and would encroach on her neices tetchy company for a week or so while exalting loudly and at length on the joys of "living off the land". She'd probably turn up at some point very soon really. Patsy hoped she'd get at least some notice to dust off her aunts "gifts" before that stupid yurt invaded her poky living room and filled the upholstery with the clinging scent of skunk. Patsy fleetingly wondered where the damn moon cup from last year had gone; probably in the bin if she recalled right.

The kitchen light was on. Patsy stood for a moment silhouetted by the borrowed light steeling herself as her guest clinked a bottle against the rim of a glass. Pouring. Waiting.

Clenching her jaw Patsy slouched into the room feeling more out of place in her own home than her uninvited guest. It was always like that. Patsy hated how assured Val was sometimes. The feet of her chair screeched loudly against the tiles as she dragged it away roughly from the table and sank onto the hard seat without bothering with greetings or niceties. Almost as a side note Patsy reached into her pocket and dropped her badge on the table. It went thunk thunk as it hit the wood. Nothing about this was all that nice. 

A glass was set before her immediately, amber liquid sloshing richly as it struck the sides. Val had done Patsy the honour of digging out the good spirits in her absence.

How thoughtful of her.

Without speaking Patsy lent back on the chair so that the front feet rose up with a creak and smacked her bootclad feet onto the table top. Little flecks of dry dirt and grey sand peppered the wooden surface. Sniffing, Patsy leaned forward precariously and grasped her so recently poured drink before pushing back and sipping it bit by bit while she surveyed her guest who was sitting demurely across from her.

Unsurprisingly for the occasion; Val was wearing a dress. 

'The' dress in fact.

Odd really, the way that Val always wore it on these rare nights. It was a summer dress type thing; midnight blue with purple flowers at the bottom, low cut at the top so her tits sprayed out provocatively. The dress was pretty, girly- not Val at all. It was, Patsy thought dejectedly, a flag of some kind, a signal that only they knew about. She'd worn it the first time they'd started doing this and ever since it had become a kind of ritual in the proceedings.

Patsy didn't really like rituals as a rule. It was a hard worn, habitual kind of dislike she struggled to quell most days and in any other situation she would most likely have questioned someone who clung so much to a symbol. Dress or no dress, it made no odds to Patsy what Val wore, the result would be the same. The clothes would end up slung on the floor alongside hers. Annoyingly though she'd never bothered to ask why the usually jean wearing tom boy made such effort for these evenings. She supposed a little part of her worried it all might stop if either of them questioned their motives too much.

It wasn't like Patsy had ever turned her down or anything though.

Val was already a few glasses up on Patsy by the way her head drifted off to oneside; her carefully coloured in cat eye flicks in the corners of her eyelids were smudged as though she'd been rubbing at them. She was watching Patsy expectantly. Patsy sipped her drink some more, unconcerned, feeling the pressure in the room thicken as they both assessed their options silently.

Patsy was willing to bet any money that Val wouldn't be wearing underwear under that dress. Was probably already wet.

"You know... I could probably arrest you for breaking and entering." Patsy offered in a falsely sanguine voice feeling the whiskey burning her throat and warming her chest. Val smiled a bit hazily, balancing her chin on her hand.

"I've been thinking about you all day... You're late in tonight, I was starting to worry you'd got yourself a better deal somewhere else?" Patsy noticed the slight possessive tone with a raised eyebrow and a flicker of impatience.

"Where's your husband tonight Val?" She shot back. Val sneered, immediately reaching forward haphazardly and dragging the half empty bottle by the neck to pour herself more whiskey. 

That bottle cost thirty quid and had been a thank you present from the old biddy at the post office for Patsy not arresting her grandson when he was caught pissing in the fountain near the town hall drunk as a skunk. The evening Patsy had been saving it for had not been this one. Wordlessly Patsy extended her glass and Val dutifully filled it again. Vals wedding ring flashed on her finger as she gripped the bottles slim neck.

Patsy hated looking at that ring; often thought the gold looked so yellow it must be fake. Probably plated or something.

"Working.' Val replaced the bottle to the middle of the table as the quotation marks fell heavily around her sulky answer. Patsy could think of no polite reply so settled for sipping nonchalantly at her drink. 'Something important with you lot apparently. I didn't need to wait up I was informed so... of course, that means he won't be back until sunrise." 

Patsy rubbed her thumb nail against the slight perspiration growing on her glass. Her lot. Phil Dyer was not exactly what she'd call her lot. Wasn't her anything. Well... that wasn't strictly true. What he definitely was to her was her boss and because he was her boss Patsy knew for a fact he wasn't working tonight. Fucker had a worse reputation for shagging that she did and that was saying something.Val knew that too.

A few times, in quiet moments, Patsy had wondered why Val didn't just leave him. She'd also questioned, although much less often, if Val was fucking her only because she worked with Phil and it was a more spiteful betrayal that way or if it was because Patsy was a woman and Val knew him well enough to understand that this fact would kill her husband if he were ever to find out. Probably a bit of both she'd concluded glumly.

Patsys work boots were solid comfortable things with big eyelets and rather bedraggled laces locking the tongue together across its front. They were good on long patrols, comfy in a snow storm and right now they felt like lead weights pinning her feet on the table. Patsy peered over at Val who was watching her with big, dark eyes. Patsy sighed and took another large gulp of whiskey.

"What do you want?" 

What do you want? Another ritual. Stupid bloody thing to ask really. They both knew exactly why Val was sitting in her kitchen at stupid o clock after her husband had said he'd be away all night. Still... Patsy always asked the question. Maybe she could stomach being the womans booty call at a push but she'd be damned if she was going to just roll over and make it comfortable for Val straight off the bat.

Val was smiling as she drained her glass and plopped it on the table with a soft thunk.

"I want,' she said deliberately, enunciation every word so her cockney accent stuck out more and almost managing not to slur, 'you to take me to your bed Patience. Now." 

It was an order, Patsy could feel her spine straighten at the tone. Hated herself for it. She tapped her finger on the edge of the glass watching the thick liquid swirl inside before inclining her head towards her feet on the wooden tabletop meaningfully.

"Can't take you to bed with boots on,' she looked up and their eyes met over the bottle. 'Wouldn't be very polite of me if I did that would it?" Val stared at her for a second before reaching out to undo the laces slowly, the string uncoiling from loose knots like disturbed serpents. Patsy watched clinically as the shoes were, one by one, undone and dropped carelessly onto the kitchen floor. She had a hole in the big toe of her socks- would have to throw them out before the shift started tomorrow.

Val was holding her ankle, the cold fingers pin pricks of ice against the warmth of her legs. Her touch was possessive almost, the look she sent Patsy was smug. As though it was perfectly fine to turn up here with no invitation, shag Patsy all night and dissapear before morning back to her happy little married life.

Patsy reflected, not for the first time, that as types went straight married women were never an ideal choice.

It wasn't alright for them to be doing this, Patsy knew that fact deep down and yet... that wasn't going to stop it all from happening. Not tonight atleast. Val looked even more smug as she watched Patsy struggle with herself; it was as though she understood exactly what Patsy was thinking and found it amusing. Patsy couldn't help hating Val a bit for that. 

Almost angry now, at herself or Val it didn't matter, Patsy slammed her chair back to the floor and jerked her feet down with it. Val slipped somewhat from her bent position when Patsys legs were ripped from her grasp, unseated, as Patsy got to her feet and rounded the table in two long strides. Vals smirk deepened as Patsy bent to lift her up, reaching to wrap her hands around Patsys neck as Patsys arms looped underneath Vals thighs. Patsy would swear Vals face almost softened as they drew closer, just as it always did when Patsy gave in. 

Patsy grunted a little as she hoiked Val up and half threw her onto the table unceremoniously. The bottle tipped over as Vals body filled the available space and whiskey sloshed noisily onto the floor for a moment before the bottle rolled over the edge and smashed on the tiles in an explosion of glass and spray. Patsy ignored both the loss of alcohol and the mess as she gripped the hem of Vals pretty dress in two fists and pulled it up to bunch around the womans hips.

Val wasn't wearing underwear. Patsy wasn't wrong on either of her hunches by the feel of it.

The brunette still clung to her neck, the pressure so tight Patsy wondered if she might end up suffocating by accident tonight as she pressed their lips together. There were, she supposed vaguely as Val pushed her tongue inside Patsys mouth, worse ways to go.

"This isn't your bed Patience." Val grumbled as her hands released Patsys neck to begin tugging insistently at Patsys belt. Patsy felt uncomfortably long nails scratch at her lower stomach and a sympathetic squeezing of her insides at the sensation.

"Maybe I want you here first." Patsy countered feeling her belt give way and her trousers waist band slip to hang on the curve of her bum. Val bit her ear and wrapped her calves around Patsys legs tightly; pulling her in.

"Stop messing around. Inside me. Now." 

Val always liked to be in control. It drove Patsy crazy sometimes; she hated that she let herself be ordered around in her own home. Hated herself for doing this over and over again. For not learning. For not being a better person. Val was pushing her hips forward, sighing into Patsys ear expectantly and Patsy felt familiar feelings of garden variety lust cloud over her misgivings.

Slowly, her eyes closed tightly, her hands seeking the familiar part time warmth... Patsy did as she was told.

The table creaked ominously as two bodies rocked, remnants of whiskey beaded off the tables edge as the legs rattled harshly on the tiles.

Sun rise was hours away yet.

\--

The beach was silent now. Little flecks of sea foam stained the grey sand a few shades darker as the tide began its inward pull. The footsteps made from the days holiday traffic were slowly being rubbed away. Ready for tomorrow. 

The moon waxed lyrically high in the sky about starlight although, of course, no one ever bothered to listen to the moon very much. It being the astrological equivalent of Ringo star. The sun usually drew in the big crowds; the big solar show off.

The silence was broken only by the gentle lapping of the water on the beach and a far off splashing that gradually grew in volume as a tiny two man paddle boat was steered to shore. When the boat had reached close enough that the front end began bucking harder against the waves two shapes extended from the seats and heaved something long and cylindrical up from the boats floor.

Taking one end each they began to swing the load this way and that like a bizarre kind of skipping rope. Higher and higher the thing arced through the air under their direction, sagging sadly in the center. A child on a set of swings vowing that this time would be the time they would reach all the way around. And then; quite abruptly, the thing flew from the shadows grasp at the height of its curve and fell into the sea with a loud and final sounding slap.

For a moment the shapes did not move, just stood side by side watching the thing dissappear beneath the waters edge. 

They had done their jobs. The sea would finish the rest of the work off for them.

Slowly, murmuring quietly to one another, they sank back down to their seats. The sound of oars cutting through the water faded from hearing soon after.

The moon watched on as the package was dragged along deeper currents to shallower waters and eventually found a resting place in a nook dug into a dune by nature. It stayed there; picked and pulled by a half hearted tide.

It would not be found until the morning by boys combing the beach for driftwood and stones.

Out of the very end of the hessian sacking that wrapped all over the thing like a monstrous gift strands of red splayed out like flames amongst the reeds and salt water. 

For a few hours, in the bleeding dawn, the sea looked aflame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I'm back! Did you miss me?
> 
> Hope this seems like an interesting punt to you guys, I've written a fair whack already *gulp*
> 
> As a test drive I read this to the other half who, after a brief reflection, told me she dissaproved heavily of Patsy sleeping with someone other than Delia... I'll tell you what I told her, Delia is a coming peeps but this isn't DEDE and they're slightly different characters; for a start they haven't met yet.
> 
> Hopefully you like it; let me know eh? #nodsatcommentboxmeaningfully
> 
> SB x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -My sweet innocent child, how can I explain?

"What a fucking mess." 

Phil Dyer pouched out his flabby cheeks as he looked all around him. His face seemed a little grey in the pale morning light and his gut protruded over the waistband of his jeans. There was dry egg on the bristles of his beard and Patsy wondered if Val had cooked him breakfast this morning before he left to come here. Wondered if the brunette had winced plating it up. Rather unkindly, Patsy hoped she hadn't been forgotten already. Hoped Val was sore enough to remember how she'd been soundly fucked hours before when she looked her shit of a husband in the eye.

It would always be a mystery to Patsy what Val saw in the man.

Realising she was staring Patsy blinked down hurriedly at the sodden bundle laid out on a fold down trolley before her; the little wheels sinking into the sand with the womans weight. Her intense dislike for Phil Dyer aside she had to agree with the man even if she hated doing it; the scene in front of her really was a mess.

They were on the beach front a little way down from the walk-through leading down past the main tourist strip. Already early morning pedestrians were huddled at the perimeters edge trying to see what had happened. A few cameras flashed and Patsy inwardly groaned; the news would doubtless be all over Facebook soon if it wasn't already. 

She'd been woken up maddeningly at the Godless hour of six with a call from Phil. Shit had gone down and she needed to get there quick. Looking down along the beach now Patsy had to admit that 'shit' did not even cover it.

Val had eventually slipped away around two in the morning; wiping her fingers daintily on the bed sheet before dressing and leaving Patsy wordlessly where she lay to watch the trail of Vals pretty dress dissappear around the door. Patsy had fallen asleep around five after getting up moodily; showering under the hottest water she could bare, changing the bedding and bleaching the kitchen table top. She'd scrubbed and scoured so hard her hands felt cracked and dry this morning, so much so that the skin around her pinky fingers knuckles were bleeding a little.

She always cleaned when she was upset. Didn't really know why she did it. But it was almost like she thought she could wash away the filth living under her skin if she did it enough. Thus far she'd never managed to clean sufficiently to ease her own mind, probably never would; the dirt was too far down. Patsy would feel dirty sitting in a bath of acid.

And all the while, of course, she'd been regretting her actions and despairing at her poor judgement abilities. Around the second bottle of bleach Patsy had wondered if it was a good thing that she knew that what she was doing was wrong or if it just made it all the more worse because she couldn't stop herself from doing it. Would do it again before long with Val or someone else. It was, she'd concluded, a rather poisonous cycle with vaguely passing pleasant events breaking it all up.

She'd managed to get the smell of sex out of her nose in the end although she still fancied she could catch a whiff of Vals perfume on her skin and rather perversely felt it was good luck on her part that the body had been found out doors. Phil wouldn't be able to pick up on it here with the strong sea breeze whipping the air and spraying bits of sand at their faces.

The beach was now a maze of blue tape Co-ordining off the fresh crime scene while CSI's in their paper suits worked out the back of the van and seived through the sand for evidence. 

Their victim had been found by two school boys this morning around five when they almost tripped over her where the sand from the tide had covered her over with a thin layer of silt. The body hadn't been posed or staged in any obvious manner but someone had stripped her down naked and wrapped her in a sack. It was vaguely possible they might get prints from the hessian bagging but unlikely; salt water killed forensics and anyway the job seemed too neat to be the work of an amateur. 

Already questions were forming from the vaguely observed scene. For a start it was unclear how the body got onto the beach; over night drop off for definite but had it been done by boat or car? CCTV on the strip was the closest they'd get to the beach on this stretch of coast but that would only work if Pete from the amusement arcade, a famously tight fisted bastard, had bothered to turn them on. Tapes cost money after all.

The body was already bagged up after the CSI's had photographed its position and dropped blue markers around the site. The zip on the bodybag was currently peeled back halfway to expose tufts of sacking and their victims face for Patsy and Phils inspection.

It had probably been quite a pretty face before all of this. The features were symmetrical and she had good skin. Had had good skin from what Patsy could see. Now it was mainly shades of brown and greyish white where the blood had dried into the pores and the skin had gone wrinkly in the turgid sea water. A dead woman washed up on Poplar beach.

This was going to be so messy for tourism.

Unusual thing too.

Despite what ITV and the BBC might lead the general population to believe, murders weren't actually all that common in little English towns. Manslaughter and suicides were the norm. Big elaborate murder cases were things played out on the television with gritty detectives who never had to do paperwork. Junkies OD'ing, sad men wading into the sea with rocks tied to their legs and domestic killings was CIDs real bread and butter. 

The suicides were sad and generally committed by teenagers or men who didn't know how to talk about things. The domestics killings were nearly always cut and dry cases. Even the most brain dead plod wandering into a house covered in blood where a white faced wife holding a rolling pin sat muttering 'he never should have said that about our Trevor' while a late husband cooled on the kitchen floor could only really drag the paperwork out until end of shift. And that was only if the plod was shit at grammar and took a lot of tea breaks.

Patsy sighed looking at the womans face for a final time. Cause of death would need to be confirmed in the coroners report but considering half the womans head was missing it should be quite straightforward to assume someone had given her a bloody great whack with something terminally hard. 

"Did we find any ID on her?" Patsy asked Phil as she patted her pockets vaguely for her pouch of baccy feeling a wave of fatigue wash over here. Not enough sleep. It was too bloody early for this sort of thing. Phil shook his head, nodding to one of the scene technicians knee deep in a dune, bagging up bits of hessian sacking stuck to the well of dunes bottom.

"Nope, nothing on her and some kind soul thought they'd give us an extra challenge. They've pulled her teeth; proper job too. We'll have to wait until the Toff confirms it to find out if those extras were done pre death or after but I think it's safe to say whoever did her over didn't want us to work out who she was in a hurry. I've got the uniforms checking missing persons. Pretty young girl like this. Might get lucky; someone must be looking for her." 

Patsy sucked her tongue, tracing the back of her teeth as she imagined what it would feel like to have all of them ripped out her mouth. For the womans sake Patsy sincerely hoped she'd been dead when they did that to her. Only a bastard would be that cold.

"Sarge! I think you'll want to see this!" Patsy turned round at the call instinctively although it had been directed at Dyer. Dyer looked unimpressed as the pale face of Chopsticks waved at them purposefully across the wide space.

Chopsticks was actually called Dave Simms, to his mother at least. He was fifth generation Chinese, hence the nickname, but he'd grown up around Lancaster for most of his life. He'd moved down to Norfolk for the 'big city lifestyle' he'd once told Patsy without a shred of irony. He was uniform but desperately wanted to be CID. Patsy liked him well enough although his near constant questions about getting onto the AIDS course did her head in a bit.

"Bloody marvellous, sherlock holmes has popped in to give us a hand." Muttered Phil under his breath as Chopsticks pointed to someone very short a few paces behind him. Patsy and Phil strolled over to see who it was.

It was, as it turned out, a he. A young boy of about nine or ten at the very most wearing shorts and sandals with a blue school jumper on top. A light and dark blue tie poked through the V neck and polo shirt tufted out the bottom. School kid then? One of the kids who'd found the body. He looked scared, pale and sweaty and someone, probably Chopsticks, had given him a hot chocolate for shock that he now clasped in his hand and had only half drunk. Patsy smiled kindly at the boy, who did not smile back. She didn't take it offensively though.

Finding dead women on the beach did that to people.

"Well? What is it?" Phil asked, his voice rather harsh, addressing his question to Chopsticks as he glared at the boy like he felt his time was a precious thing not to be wasted on teary kids.

"This is Timothy Sarge. We've been chatting, haven't we Tim?" 

Tim nodded dully as his pink knuckles whitened on the ceramic mug taken from the beach cafe. Phil snorted and the sound of mucus being moved around his nostrils pervaded the air.

"And this matters to me because?" Chopsticks gulped perceptibly. Phil was a mean mother when he wanted to be and everyone knew how he loved lording it over the uniforms. Everyone wanted to cut him down to size too, would love to wipe the smile from his face.... however, he was also part of the panel that looked at candidates for AIDS training. AIDS was what you needed to get into if you wanted in on CID. The panel met once a year and Chopsticks wanted it badly.

"Well Sarge, Tim says he knows our body. Says he knows her well." Patsy eyed the boy carefully. His knees were shaking and his lips quivered like he wanted to cry but was holding it back. Poor thing.

"Knows her?' Phil too was looking at the boy but where Patsy saw a child traumatised he clearly saw a weakling in undersized clothing. Phil stepped over and slapped a hand hard onto Timothys shoulder. The boy flinched at the contact and his sandals sunk a few inches deeper into the sand.

"You ever seen a stiff before kid?" He asked nastily and the boys lip wobbled. Patsy wanted to stamp on Phils face. Quickly she walked over to them both, siding a protective arm around Tims shoulder and subtly pulling him in closer to her. He was shaking under her hands.

"N-n-no. I've seen stuff on TV but I've never seen anything like that." Timothys words rattled like a marble wedged in a cage. Patsy squeezed him gently and felt the boy lean on her. Phil narrowed his eyes at them both as Chopsticks hovered in the background.

"Out with it kid, who do you think she is then?" Patsy impatiently swapped feet at the accusatory sounding question. Timothy gulped but his chin seemed to point out more as he straightened his shoulders and glared at Dyer. Patsy wanted to cheer him on.

"I don't think, officer, I know. That lady is a teacher at my school. She's a nun called sister Winnifred. She- She helped me with my butterfly garden at easter." Timothys voice had lost its tremor but Patsy could tell tears weren't far off now. He needed to go home to his mother. He was too young for this sort of thing. Dyer sniffed irritably as he eyeballed the kid.

"You're sure.' He said seriously, 'lying to the police is a criminal offence lad." Timothy peered up at Dyer his face serene for a moment.

"I'm nine years old. I'm too young for prison." He answered in the bold way of nine year old boys everywhere. Dyer huffed rubbing the back of his hand as though restraining himself from cuffing Timothy.

"Well? Have we checked missing persons?" This he snapped to Chopsticks who grinned like a magician about to stick the lady, so dramatically sawed in half, back together again.

"Already done it Sarge. Sister Winnifred was reported missing last night at around half ten. Apparently she was late to one of their prayer things. Call was made by a Sister Julienne at Nonnatus House. There's a photo too." Chopsticks proffered a hastily printed image and Patsy and Dyer looked down at their victims face dressed in full blown nun get up. Dyer groaned quietly before spitting at the ground.

"Fucking hate nuns." He said grumpily to the world at large. Patsy squeezed Timothys shoulder again hoping against hope that he didn't use the f-word just uttered in front of him to his mother any time soon. Dyer was sucking at his cheek reflectively. 

"Right, get the kid down the station for a statement and meet me down at Nonnatus." His order was directed to Patsy but Chopsticks lept into feeble action behind Patsys shoulder, desperate to show he was a team player.

"I can do that Sarge, me and Tim have already built a rapport and you two can go together." Patsy looked down at Tim whose mug had slackened in his grip making luke warm hot chocolate trickle down his wrist. He looked completely exhausted. 

"Not on your life Chopsticks, Mounts the girl; they love all that kid stuff. You stay here and do your best plod impersonation. Mount, get going, you've got an hour while I get some brekkie." Dyer smacked the palms of his hands together loudly as Patsy weighed up her options, hearing Tim sniffle from elbow height.

"I think I'll take Timothy home Sarge if it's all the same to you. Uniforms or I can come back tomorrow for a statement. He's had a shock; needs his mum. We'd need an appropriate adult anyway." She felt Tim twist to look up at her gratefully as Dyer threw her an unimpressed expression.

"Right. Well, as long as you know I won't be signing off the over time for that Mount. I look after workers not sherkers." Patsy glared at him until he smirked and turned to walk away whistling softly. Chopsticks watched him go dejectedly before inclining his head at the kid.

"I meant what I said Patsy, I can take him off your hands if you want." He still sounded hopeful, wanting his name in the final report somehow. Patsy tutted as she took the cup from Tims unresisting hands and dropped it into Chopsticks.

"You should be careful how far up Dyers arse you crawl Chopsticks. It might cave in behind you." 

Without waiting for a reply Patsy strode past the cop pulling Timothy behind her to her jeep parked just on the concrete embankment. Pushing the unlock button on her keys she opened the passenger door and pushed him up the step. He went meek as a lamb where she put him, the shock starting to wear through the adrenaline.

Climbing in behind the steering wheel Patsy glanced at him. He was shivering even though the weather was mild. Without comment Patsy flicked the air con so warmth spread through the grills and made the cab hot. Timothy rested his head on the seat and closed his eyes.

"Where to young man?" Patsy asked gently and the boy blinked unfocused. 

"My mums just had a baby girl, she's at home. Near the town hall." Patsy nodded and started the engine. Letting the rumble of the car fill the empty void in the conversation as the beach fell from view and they slowly made their way through the deserted arcade strip close by. Grabber machines stacked high with soft toys, coin sorting machines and cash machines that charged a fiver a go flashed their neon signs despite the early hour. 

Patsy tapped her fingers lightly on the wheel as she waited for the traffic lights to change. 

"You were a brave lad back there, not many nine year olds who could do all of that. I'm sure your teacher would have been proud of you." She said it to the front windscreen and heard the leather lurch as Timothy looked her way.

"No I'm not. If I was brave I would have said it sooner. I cried in front of other people... my friends will think I'm a loser." Tim muttered. Patsy sighed, driving on towards town thinking of the childish taunts that got thrown about out of adults earshot. Nothing meaner than a child without filters.

"You aren't a loser. Even grown ups cry when they see a dead person; especially when it's someone they know. The first time I saw a dead body I cried and I'm not a loser." The lie slipped out easy as water through a gap. In truth she hadn't cried when she saw her first body, she'd stared at it rooted to the spot, horrified and numb. She'd been eight and her sisters crumpled form still haunted her. It had never occurred to her to cry back then; tears didn't do anything and there was no one to comfort her anyway.

Still. The kid didn't need to know the whole truth, it would be enough to know he wasn't alone in his feelings.

"I liked her... she was kind. Some teachers are mean, they laugh at you even when they say they don't. She wasn't like that." Patsy kept her voice light as she tried to get as much information as she could.

"Was she your teacher? You must be, what, in year six?" Stab in the dark that, Patsy knew nothing about little school. Tim frowned.

"I'm in year five, Year six is next year.' He spoke as though she was slow, probably seeming like a dumb grown up trying to talk down to him.

"Ahh, sorry lad, it's been a while since I was nine after all. So, sister Winnifred was your teacher?"

"No, my teacher's Miss Busby. Sister Winnifred did year four, she was my old teacher." Patsy tried to slow down, picking up on the boys impatience, considering what to ask next. Best to show a bit of interest in the kids world maybe.

"Miss Busby eh? Is she the one that laughs at you then?" Tim was looking at her fully now, neck craned around to keep Patsy in his line of vision, his high voice solemn.

"No. Miss Busby's nice; she's from Wales. Pembrokeshire. She showed me on the map when we did Geography. She wears cool shoes... and she likes Justin Beiber." The boy ended his statement with the air of a man who had explained a matter of substance to a point of utter satisfaction. Patsy bit back a small smile. Justin Beiber eh. Did they teach kids anything decent these days?

"She sounds wonderful Tim. So if you have these two nice teachers why don't you like the others?" Tim narrowed his eyes darkly.

"The subs are horrid, they side with the other kids. The new children with the funny names. They all talk about me together in their own language and laugh. I told sister Winnifred and she said to ignore people who laugh; she said they're just jealous. My mum said the same thing but it doesn't make it any easier." Tim sighed deeply like an old man mired in strife and Patsy raised her eyebrows as the town hall popped up ahead.

"Sounds like you've got some smart ladies in your court kid. Which way now?" 

"Left and then round the corner into Sanders Croft." Patsy followed the boys instructions.

"You shouldn't listen to people who laugh at you kid. Life's a long line of faces, only pay attention to the ones that matter. It makes it easier in the long run." Patsy spoke mildly thinking of Helen, of Trixie but Tim just sighed and turned to face the window again.

"I don't know what that means... People are hard, I don't know which faces are important." He spoke quietly, his voice muffled by his hand propped under his chin. Patsy sighed as an image of Val last night sucking at her ribs popped up in her brain.

Yeah, you and me both kid.

Timothys house was a nice two up, two down with a big drive way big enough for two cars. The curtains twitched as they pulled up and a bedraggled woman wearing lopsided winged glasses, a top stained with a miscellaneous orange food and a baby on one hip rushed through the front door soon after as Tim alighted from the vehicle.

"Mum." The boy called weakly as the woman stormed down the drive looking concerned. Her concern only grew as the kids tears finally fell in her prescence. Fat droplets of salt water dribbling over her sons skinny cheeks as he stepped to press his face into his mothers waist. Automatically the woman enclosed her free hand around his shaking shoulders to bring him closer. The baby giggled and blew a few raspberries patting her brothers head aimlessly. 

The mother shook her head, trying to balance baby and boy for a moment before swinging round to glare at Patsy. A Mama bear with her cubs ready to oust any outsider who would hurt them. Patsy smiled weakly; feeling an explanation was necessary. Hurriedly she fished at her belt and proffered her warrant card to the woman. The womans eyes glowed faintly as she recognised the sigil.

"What's going on? Tim! What's happened?" So the mum was a Scot; her words burred with stress. She looked helplessly to Patsy for more information as Timothy merely stepped in closer burrowing his face into her dress more thoroughly.

"Young Timothy has had a bit of a nasty surprise. I think it's best if we get off the street, perhaps a cup of sweet tea all round." Patsy suggested the idea in her brightest voice acutely aware of eyes peering out at them from three windows in different houses.

They quickly followed her idea, closing the door and walking through the house to a big kitchen where breakfast had clearly been in full swing before the interruption. The mother deposited the little baby, a girl in a grey dress and vest, into her highchair and promptly pulled her son onto her lap.

Patsy explained as least gruesomely as she could how her son had come to be so upset. Timothy gave little information himself still tearful and groggy. When she had finished Tims mother; Shelagh, sat very still, her arms rubbing circles on her sons back.

"But who would do a thing like this?" She asked eventually, her lilting voice melodic in the kitchens airy acoustics. Patsy shrugged.

"I can't answer that question, we'll find out eventually but for now it's a mystery. Did you know the sister in any way?" Shelagh raised her eyebrows.

"Me? No, not in any special way. She was a Nonnatun, a teacher at Tims school but I wouldn't say I knew her that well. She seemed to avoid me for the most part."

"Avoid you? Why would she avoid you?" Shelagh blushed and glanced down at her sons head.

"Oh, I was a nun for a while until I met my husband. He's a doctor and we fell quite in love. I left the order several years ago but some of the new nuns struggle to understand how I could break my vows... I assumed Sister Winnifred felt that way and was sensitive to it." Patsy looked at the woman before her. She was beautiful and wore the beauty well in her oversized shirt and jeans, clasping a son to her with a daughter gurgling happily on long cubes of pureed carrot. She looked nothing like a nun.

"I see. Well I'll go now but I need to tell you either myself or another officer will be along in the next few days to take formal statements. It shouldn't be anything too strenuous but it will be necessary. Hopefully Tim will oblige us." Timothy unstuck his head to nod seriously at the request before rubbing his swollen eyes.

Shelagh released him to walk Patsy out. As they stepped through the house again Patsy took in the family picture frames and signs of domestic life. A pang of longing bit deep inside. She could only dream of such a thing.

Walking away, the front door closing behind her, Patsy sighed. She slid into her jeep feeling fatigue gnaw at her. She should have got more sleep. Her car clock said it was nearly eight. Dyer would already be at Nonnatus no doubt causing mayhem. The boy, Tim, was with someone who loved him. 

It was more than she'd ever had at his age...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got a big course starting Friday; scarily I'm having a go at this whole university thing to try and be a nurse (absolutely terrifying as a prospect). As such, I'm not going to be as able to update quickly. I think once a week on a Sunday is about right for me with occasional flurries of updates when I've got time.
> 
> Hopefully its interesting to you guys. This buggers taken me some time to mull over; I've written detailed chapter plans and all the mini sub plots out on spider diagrams because I'm a sad sort of woman.
> 
> SB x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning, it’s another pure grey morning, when I get uptight and walk right in to the path of the lightning bolt.
> 
> Jake Bugg. Lightning Bolt.

Patsy rang the bell to the front door of Nonnatus and waited, feeling like the harbinger of death, for an answer. The sun was just starting to get hot, a perfect fried egg in the sky and the granite stairs leading to the entrance were already luke warm to the touch. Unobtrusively placed beside Patsy at the door was a large copper collection plate resting on wall. The sign below informed anyone interested in knowing that all proceedings would be going to Poplars needy. Patsy regarded the sad looking empty dish for a moment before ruefully digging into her pocket and dropping a handful of change into it. The spinning coins rattled like nails on a blackboard. Patsy turned away from it, feeling embarrassed and glanced around her.

Nonnatus House had originally been a much grander convent set in the older part of the main town. It had thick wooden doors and drafty high ceilings. From the outside it looked as though a cut price architect, on a tight budget, had been given a big square box and told to inspire the masses with as many ecclesiastically themed cornices, gargoyles and random spiky blocks of granite the groaning building could take.

These days it had fallen into some quite substantial decline thanks to wide spred secularisation in modern society and lack of recruits to the good work. Originally being comprised of practical nurses and midwives, the order tended to man the depleted local GP surgery staff nowadays which was helpfully based out the back of Nonnatus. Their mindset was somewhat outdated it had to be said. A few of the older nuns even continued with the old style home visits and local rounds for the maternity ward in the general hospital.

Personally, Patsy thought tp herself as the creaking wooden door swung open in front of her and a sour faced mountain of a nun dressed in a small tents worth of black material eyed her with shrewed faced disapproval, the pregnant women of Poplar deserved a medal. It was brave lady in Patsys eyes who bore down willingly with this nuns face a hands width from their crotch.

"You the other one? Your man said there'd be another detective on their way.' She did not speak so much as bark and Patsy nodded quickly. "Well, don't just stand there daydreaming girl, come in. Let's all the hot air out hanging around doorways." The nun had a brisk, no-nonsense voice that prompted the brain to consider victorian era chaperones and strict wet nurses. Patsy hastily did as she was bid, her boots squeaking loudly on the tiled floor.

The atrium was a wide open space with pews made inexplicably cosy, dressed in home sewn cushions, propped against walls. A big cross bearing a rather tired looking Christ was bolted to the opposite wall space. Whoever had done the job had botched it somewhat; Patsy could not recall the Bible ever referring to the cross as wonky. It lilted off to one side. 

"-Poisonous bunch-back'd toad!" A shrill thin wail seemed to resound from the walls themselves and bounced to Patsy and the Rugby player sized nun. Both women started at the unexpected sound and peered towards the source, the nun closing her eyes tightly as though praying for patience as she did so. Loud uneven footsteps ghosted from a passage way up ahead.

"O gull, o dolt, as ignorant as dirt!" A bedraggled old woman with hair streaming from messily pinned cap stumbled through a doorway a few feet away from Patsy and her welcome committee. Patsy blinked at the unusual sight, taken aback by the old womans disarrayed appearance. The other nun, clearly unsurprised to see such a visage baring down on her, merely tutted and strode to clasp the old womans wrist forcefully so that the wizened head was forced to tilt and meet her furious gaze.

"How many times do I have to tell you? The detectives are here to help find sister Winnifreds killer, they are not our enemies!" The older woman made an almost animal hiss at this and pulled her hand free of its restraint staring at her colleague in a kind of agony, tears beginning to stream from the corners of her crinkled eyes.

"As our greatest bards have suggested time in finitum you are; all eyes and no sight. That beast has come with a coat of lies into the house of the Lord." The woman was shaking, her skinny legs juddering where she stood and her voice sounded thin and confused. Patsy fidgeted wondering if she should somehow take herself away from the clearly private scene.

"He has come with the truth, our sister is dead!' The big nuns voice cracked as she said the word and her face became momentarily much older and weather worn. After a heartbeat of inner struggle she shrugged massive shoulders and, with obvious effort, attempted a more conciliatory approach to her emotional Sister. 'Look, I know you're upset but we must face facts." The old nun wrinkled her mouth in a mew of disgust to the attempt at kindness offered.

"He is the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth... And now our brave sister has departed this veil of tears I shall have no one to eat cake besides mulish hags... Like Marie Antoinette; she has been stolen from us by the vile fiends that plague this pestulant earth and not even God can call her back from the dark paths she has trod." And with that the woman rattled away, stalking up a nearby staircase with much more speed than Patsy would have suspected from such a frail looking individual. The larger nun heaved a heavy sigh and cast a wary look towards Patsy. 

"Sister Julienne will meet you momentarily, wait here, she'll come and get you. I need to see to Marie Antoinette up there before she runs amock." Patsy barely had time to nod before the woman had swept away, grumbling darkly under her breath as she puffed up the stairs.

Patsy watched them go feeling bemused. There was no way for her to be certain of course but even with her spotty knowledge on religious living she had ti ask herself; were nuns suposed to be this... eclectic? It dawned on her that she was suddenly awkwardly placed, standing alone in the wide open hall with drafts of cool air wafting around her ankles.

"You're here then, took your sweet time about it." Dyer was strolling through the same door the old nun had come from with his hands in his pockets looking for all the world like a lord strolling through his manor house. Patsy scowled feeling foolishly like a child caught lolling outside the headmasters office.

"You've been making friends I see." She fired back and Dyer smirked casting a side look at the stairs. 

"Nutty old bat took my cup of tea straight out my hands, don't know what her problem is. This place is like a time warp filled with God botherers.' He sucked his teeth, 'creeps me right out." Patsy silently agreed about the strangeness although she never minded religious sorts; provided they never asked her to join. She'd briefly lived in a Catholic home in another county for a few months after the commune was rescued while the court case was going through. The nuns there had been kind enough to her; the mute mad kid who wouldn't stop crying. 

"Chief biddies called Sister Julienne.' Dyer snorted like the name was amusing, 'Do you think she'll run along some mountains if I give her a bunch of soppy kids to crawl after?" Patsy had only a second to shoot the man a disparaging look before another door opened and a slim nun poked her head out between the gap, clearly roused by her peers racket. No sooner had she appeared then Dyer had insinuated himself close by and was poking his hand towards her.

"Detective Sergeant Dyer madam. This here looking pretty and dim is detective constable Mount. We spoke on the phone earlier, would you be the esteemable sister Julienne?" Patsy stared at the back of the mans head despising him, his voice could have greased axles. The nun was staring at both detectives with an impassive mask Patsy didn't believe in one bit.

"You are detective. Please; come into my study." The nun made a tiny step before turning on her heel. Dyer followed half a hair behind her while Patsy kicked at her heels slightly. She hated talking to relatives; dealing with other peoples grief had been one of the most difficult aspects of the job to cope with at first. The relatives who didn't cry or make any outward show of pain were the individuals that made her guts twist the most. That numb pain sheltered behind stiff upper lips reminded her too much of the past. Of a different life.

The study was a dark wood pannelled affair with an enormous antique desk set before a bow window that, if you were into that sort of thing, gave unprecedented views of Poplar high street with its sundry comings and goings. A few pedestrians were strolling along the road dressed in shorts and vests. Patsy wondered how their dead nun had managed to get out of the convent undetected. She must have been fairly stealthy to escape so many watchful eyes.

Sister Julienne was surveying both detectives from a seat beside the desk, her large eyes sharp as she seemed to pick her visitors apart. She was handsome bordering on pretty and surprisingly young from the pieces of her face and body that was visible through her clothes. As she drew closer Patsy felt oddly struck by a strange aura of effective power emanating from the woman. She wore her responsibilities about her like a protective cloak. A shield against the darkness. A woman like that would be hurting terribly if someone under her care was harmed to be sure. Patsy felt a wave of sadness on the nuns behalf. It was a horrible business; murder.

"It's good of you to meet us Sister, we understand you're all going through shock and we don't want to encroach on your time too much. There's just a few questions we need to ask; you do understand." Patsy spoke softly, sitting beside Dyer who's wide bum was drifting over his own small seat into Patsys so that their hips brushed. Patsy leaned subtly away to rest half off the chair hoping it would be hidden by Dyers coat.

"Of course constable, Nonnatus House is at your disposal, all of my sisters will answer any questions you may have to the best of their knowledge." The nun had one hell of a game face. She looked drawn and still as a statue in her seat. Patsy was reminded of straight backed generals in wars, she wondered how much such strength cost the nun. How fragile was the mask?

"That's very kind sister and we appreciate it. With your permission we'll also need to look in Sister Winnifreds bedroom; to search for anything that might help with our enquiries." They'd need the CSI's in there too later. Winnifred must have told someone what was going on, a diary or a note might be pushing the polices luck to the very limits but a finger search had given them enough information before now. It might work. 

The question, clearly unexpected, made the nuns facade ripple. A shock of pain swam across the soft cheeks and slackened them before Sister Julienne could ram her protective lie back into place. 

"In her room? Of- of course but I feel I must warn you that the order does not keep personal effects. We serve our Lord faithfully and take only ourselves to the grave. When we take our vows we assume our holy name and lifestyle, the shackles of the past are forgotten." Dyer snorted and stifled a chuckle. Julienne looked at him uneasily.

"We'll also need the names of sister Winnifreds surviving family. We have family liaison staff who can break the news to them or we can leave that up to you." Patsy tried to smooth over the slightly ugly moment and it seemed to work; Julienne turned back to her atleast.

"Sister Winnifred had no living parents; she was orphaned at a younge age I understand. She has a sister in Peterborough but the two had not seen each other for several years since she took holy vows. If possible I would prefer to make such a call. We were her family, we will take care of her final tasks." This statement roused Dyer to speech, he tapped his fingers idly on the arm of his chair.

"Family? I thought you were all wives of God, it's why you wear those rings isn't it?" Julienne glanced down at her right hands fourth finger, it twitched slightly so the gold band glinted.

"We are all committed in our faith to our Lord." She answered primly and Dyer smiled. He liked to rile up witnesses, it made him feel powerful.

"How was Sister Winnifred in herself the last few days before she died?" Dyer barked, trying to keep Julienne unsettled.

"She was... her usual self, busy obviously with her work." Dyer had barely let her finish before barreling onto his next question carelessly.

"She was a teacher? That's unusual isn't it? Nonnatus is a medical based convent I always thought." Julienne shook her head slightly, her mouth opening for a pause as she marshalled herself. Patsy wondered if she could pinch Dyer without the nun seeing. He was being an arse and there was no need. 

"She came to us last year. Previously she had worked in a school as a teacher at another convent. She was in the process of completing her nurse training but when Poplars primary school had a vacancy and struggled to fill it she offered her services; we go where the work calls us." Dyer appeared to be about to answer with another blunt question but Patsy over rode him keeping her voice calm.

"We may need the details for the school she taught at before. Was there any reason she decided such a dramatic career change?" Julienne inclined her head slightly as though listening to the God she loved, considering her answer while Dyer fidgeted beside Patsy. No doubt annoyed Patsy wasn't allowing him to take the lead.

"She felt a call to work with those more needy... the feeling is not uncommon amongst our order." 

"And relationships with her peers?' Dyer cut in quickly. 'Were there any of your lot she got on well with or less so?" Julienne pressed her lips together, a tendon on her long neck straining slightly.

"We are a family, as I have said sergeant, we live in small quarters and for the most part we're content that way. In any family however, there are always... disagreements and differing opinions. Nothing sinister I assure you but it would be remiss of me not to mention them now." Dyer lent back, folding his arms letting out a slightly excited breath. Like a hound scenting prey.

"Who's opinions did she differ with then?" Sister Julienne hesitated before answering; clearly disinclined to reference a particular peer to the detectives.

"I believe sister Evangelina and Winnifred argued on Tuesday night. She had arrived late from her class for the fourth time before compline and the two argued about it." Both detectives paused as they considered this declaration.

"Why, was she usually late to things then?" 

"Not at all,' Juliennes voice was sharp, a protective mother, 'she was a diligent and hardworking individual. She worked as a teacher in Poplar primary school but on Tuesday afternoons she entered into Norwich for face to face tutoring at the university. Winnifred claimed that the bus had broken down which had caused her to be late. Sister Evangelina felt that Sister Winnifred could have planned her route better or called the convent to make us aware of the situation." Patsy frowned, nuns killing other nuns did not paint a particular likely picture.

"Did they argue often or was this a one time disagreement?" Again Sister Julienne hesitated. Patsy wondered if the reticence stemmed from a basic dislike of speaking behind her colleagues back or a deeper connection between the two older women. 

"Sister Evangelina is a devout sister with a forthright attitude.' Julienne began slowly as though picking her words very carefully from a very large field of possible descriptions. 'Occasionally this can be misunderstood by the younger novices and newcomers. The two of them apologised to one another the next morning. As far as any of us were concerned that was the end of the matter." Dyer huffed impatiently. Arguments about religious piety meant nothing to him.

"Is there any reason you can think of why someone would want to kill your sister?" He asked his question testily and Julienne shook her head.

"No. No one at all. She was a kind soul, she pursued all of her activities with enthusiasm and energy. Her commitment to her vows was clear and sincere. Her purpose in life was to do only good... We at Nonnatus would very much like to help to bring the poor soul who committed this crime to justice." Patsy felt her head wobble slightly at the womans calm delivery.

"Poor soul? You pity the killer?" She asked incredulous. Julienne peered at her with eyes that seemed suddenly very wise.

"Someone who could do something so evil must be terribly angry or damaged inside constable. We all feel insurmountable pain for our sister and the end she has met... But despite earth bound toils I know in my heart that our Lord preached mercy to the last- it is not our place to judge him. That is Gods work... and the work of yourselves and the courts. We will help with all of your enquiries as is our duty, justice must be seen to, but yes, we will forgive him." There was another long pause, Patsy couldn't take her eyes off the nun.

"Thank you, we'll go and look in her room now if that's alright with you." Patsy said faintly and the nuns mouth moved in a rictus that had nothing to do with humour or happiness.

"Yes, sister Evangelina will take you up, no doubt she's waiting for you outside provided she has seen to Sister Monica Joan. If you don't mind I need to inform the mother house of our loss and begin making provisions for a funeral. Is it possible for you to know when our sisters body will be returned to our care?" Dyer grunted, already heaving his fat body to its feet. Patsy chewed on her answer, not wanting to promise something she could not deliver.

"Unfortunately not. There will need to be a postmortem to confirm cause of death and then the results will be confirmed in the coroners report. Sometimes... in murder enquiries there is also the possibility of a second postmortem called for by the defences attorney. Naturally, we'll keep you informed throughout the process and let you know when sister Winnifred can be released." If possible the nun seemed to grow straighter, her lips thinning as fresh pain filled her eyes. The moment was such a personal thing that Patsy felt obliged to look away; the ghosts were too raw, too familiar.

"Postmortem... is that really- I would like to impress upon you both that the least interference to Winnifreds body is best to remain in line with church ordinances. She must be returned to the earth whole if at all possible." Finally the mask had fallen and the nun was pleading with them. Patsy felt dirty watching her struggle with herself. Dyer merely snorted, already striding away.

"Unfortunately sister, a murder enquiry is not led by the church or you. We'll be in touch, come on Mount." He spat the words like so many carelessly fired bullets over his shoulder and Patsy was left alone to watch the shots hit home. Julienne swayed in her seat dazedly. The door closed behind Dyer quietly and the nun jerked to stare at Patsy who wavered where she sat embarrassed at Dyers poor manners and their association.

"I apologise for my colleague sister; he can be a bit abrupt at times but he doesn't mean it... and,' Patsy hesitated somewhat wondering if she should promise something to give the woman a bright spot to hold onto. In the end she hedged for a half assurance, 'I will do everything in my power to ensure the examiner is as sensitive as possible in respect to yours and your sisters beliefs. Thank you for answering our questions and we'll ensure you're kept informed of any developments." Julienne merely nodded, her thoughts still turned inwards. Patsy let herself out silently, following Dyers mucky footprints to the door.

"Thank you constable. I appreciate your efforts." Juliennes whisper barely hit the air as Patsy trudged back into the atrium. Dyer was already standing near the stairs. Smoking.

He was smoking. In a nunnery. Indoors... It occurred to Patsy that most cartoon villains had more erudite means of being tyrannical than Phil Dyer. No doubt about the matter, the man was the backwards pointing splinter on the bannisters of life.

Reluctantly Patsy walked over to the repugnant man trying not to look reproachful at someone who was technically a superior although there was nothing about him that evoked a sense of authority over her.

And Val prefers him to you whispered the unhelpful voice looking in from her back brain. The idea was nonsensical and ridiculous... still the truth though.

"Do you reckon any of these thunder nuggets ever got a good ride from a bloke before marrying themselves off to thin air?" Dyer asked pleasantly to Patsy as soon as she was close enough, not bothering to keep his voice down either. Patsy felt her teeth cutting into her tongue slightly. 

"Which way do you think the bedrooms are?" She mumbled eventually, trying with difficulty to move her jaw only minimally, determined to be civil if it killed her and watched as he dropped the half smoked fag onto the tiles and kicked it under a bench.

"Upstairs I imagine. I assume you brought your own gloves, I know how much you like slapping on the latex." Once! One time she'd brought her own marigolds in to clean the staff toilet and everyone had had a good chuckle at her expense over her tiny OCD problem. Hardly an overreaction on her part though she'd told herself at the time; the thing had been rancid and, anyway, after a twelve hour day was it so much to ask that the facilities be respectable? Dyer was the only one who still liked to bring it up. Patsy fumed where she stood as Dyer walked towards the stairs and began to climb them slowly. They creaked ominously at his weight.

"Julienne said a nun would take us up." Patsy warned.

"Julienne is not in charge. You are not in charge Mount. I am the senior officer here and I say where we go and where we don't... So stop pouting and drag your carcass up here now." Patsy remained where she stood fists balled up tightly so that crescent shaped marks from her nails punctured into her palms. 

Then she did as she was told. Irritated at being a constable still to Dyers sergeant status.

The upper floors were no less grand than downstairs. Rows of maple panelled doors flanked both sides of a wide and chilly hallway. Dyer was already walking up ahead as though he knew where he was going. Patsy craned about to squint at the doors but couldn't see names or plaques there.

"How do you know which rooms our vics?" She called out suspiciously and Dyer paused in his step to look back at her, his face a study in condescension.

"I'm a detective cunt-stable.' He stretched out Patsys title purposefully long, 'how do you think I know?" Patsy sagged, mildly chastened.

"You asked someone before I got here." She hazarded quietly and Dyer rolled his eyes.

"Ding ding, give the girl a prize." He was aiming for a door on the left, halfway down the corridor and had just stretched out his pudgy hand to grab the brass handle when the door suddenly opened of its own accord and a large white haired man in blue overalls shuffled out clutching a paint splattered toolbox under his arm. The newcomer wasn't looking where he was going and subsequently stepped on Dyers foot who yowled loudly and made the man flinch.

Patsy watched the scene in wry amusement as Phil clutched at his foot while the man in overalls gaped at him rather foolishly.

"Hello Fred!" Patsy called to the handyman. The man turned at the sound of his name and grinned sheepishly when he recognised the caller.

"Officer Mount, always a pleasure to see you ma'am." Patsy smiled vaguely as the big man shuffled guiltily under her piercing gaze.

Fredrick Buckle... Good old Fred Buckle. Poor, poor, poor Fred. Everyone on the force worth their salt knew Fred. Patsy had cautioned the man herself a handful of times. The great ferret racing scam of '09 was still legendry in some circles perhaps only surpassed by the monstrous turnip farmers coup of '13. Patsy smiled in reminiscence; turnips still occasionally were found in the nicks nooks and crannies to this day. No one had ever managed to work out where they had come from.

Fred Buckle. Wherever there was lunacy there would be Fred Buckle. Wherever a fast buck was to be made in Eskimo ice cube sales there would, inevitably, be Fred Buckle. Always, always, always beside any number of hairbrained scemes or dimwitted plots would you find Fred Buckle, more often than not clueless and out of luck. Patsy liked the man, enjoyed his never ending enthusiasm for life and his terrible ability to ever actually commit a crime.

Many things the man may have been but criminal wasn't one of them. Oh, he occasionally poked toes over certain hazily drawn lines but he never actually harmed anyone and quite regularly became victim to his own endeavours. To call him a crook would be akin to calling a carrot a member of the sunflower family; the two plants might begin in similar soils but Fred was too good to be bad. 

Dyer, red faced now having placed his throbbing foot back to the floor, was busy pointing angrily at Fred who eyed him warily. A mountain worrying about a butterflies passage.

"You! What were you doing in there?" Fred opened and shut his mouth stupidly as Dyer smouldered up at him.

"Sister Winnifred told me her window was playing up, I thought... well, she was a good kid... I promised her." Fred twitched his toolbox to the cops in silent explanation and Dyer spluttered.

"You may well have disturbed an active crime scene you idiot! Constable Mount I want this gentleman arrested for... for bloody obstructing officers in pursuit of their duty." Patsy frowned at Fred who had gone very white. 

"Err, on what evidence Sarge?" Dyer wheeled about, his teeth bared.

"On the evidence of me standing right here and seeing it Mount! Get him booked in." Patsy decided that stupidity was the best course of action, she twisted her features into an expression of helpless idiocy.

"But if I book him in we won't be able to search the room Sergeant. Rules say it must be a two man team. Booking Fred in could take hours and we're already here and everything... I don't know Sarge, maybe a warning would suffice?" Dyer stood for a moment locked in a private world as laziness and nastiness warred within him. Patsy remained where she was watching the two basic urges play out on his pasty features. Fred was looking from Dyer to Patsy and back again like a spectator to a tennis match.

"Fine... you! What did you touch?" Fred blinked as his lips mouthed words for a few seconds. Dyer tapped his unhurt toe impatiently.

"Just the windows and I put my toolkit on her floor." Hope poked out from Freds voice like a toad under a leaf. 

"Mount give him a caution and send him on his way. Stay away from crime scenes handy Andy." Patsy scowled, so she was getting the paperwork. Great.

Leading Fred off to oneside with a pointed nod towards the stairs Dyer paced into the room while Patsy quickly ran through the usual guff. Fred nodded amiably looking relieved. Once she was done Patsy glanced at the door. Dyer was clearly busy if the scrabbling about was anything to go by. In an undertone she asked Fred;

"Fred, why did you go in there? Even for you walking into a dead womans room was a tad silly." Fred shrugged.

"She was a good girl, couldn't sing worth a bean but she was kind... You're going to catch him aren't you?" Patsy considered Fred for a moment.

"We will, why do you think it's a he?" Fred frowned.

"Got to be a bloke. Stands to reason, girls don't do that sort of thing, they're too...' He trailed away waving a hand airily as though what girls were was too obvious a thing for him to explain. "Right I'm off, want to kiss my wife." Fred turned to go but Patsy pulled him back and quickly passed a card with her mobile number on it into his clammy palm.

"You might not be a crook Fred but I know you drink with them. If anyone lets anything slip to you I want to hear about it, OK? Call me anytime, I'm usually up." Fred took the card between massive thumb and forefinger making the tiny slip look even smaller. To his credit he hesitated only momentarily before slipping it into his pocket; no one wanted to be the town grass.

Patsy watched him go thinking about his reasoning for the murderers gender. He was wrong of course, girls did kill, statistically not as much it was true but for the most part they didn't need to. Girls fought like cats, often the purpose was not to kill but to watch the suffering afterwards. It wasn't fun if your opponent wasn't there to know you'd won after all.

Sporadic scraping noises were now coming from the nuns bedroom and Patsy sighed. No one was about save them. Far off she thought she heard the vibrations of the old nun through the pipes embedded into the wall. No one seemed to be about to spring forward and give them hell for not waiting. The feeling of being dirty twanged its melodic strings again inside Patsy and she did her best to ignore them as she strolled to the bedroom.

Patsy swivelled to look about her as the doorway fell past her feet. There was little to take in really. The word cell was not an accurate description at all she quickly concluded. Patsy had been in plenty of cells over her career but this room... this room didn't have enough personality for that. 

It comprised of a single bed which, in the current muggy heat, was dressed in just a top sheet that their victim had conscientiously folded neatly at the foot with proper hospital corners. There was a wardrobe Dyer had already opened and Patsy got the sensation that she was looking between two mirrors as replicas of the same black dress showed up lined neatly on hangers. She quickly counted three all in all. A drawer in the wardrobe, again already opened, showed a single white bra that had seen better days and a few plain knickers laid carefully beside starched caps. A dresser with a pathetically small mirror stood in front of the window. There was no chair. On the table was a plain wooden hairbrush threaded with copper strands around the worn teeth. Beside the bed was a small circular rug. The only peice of individuality to be seen in the rather sad space.

And that was it. The sum of one persons life fitted into a single paragraph. Dyer was standing on tip toes trying to peer over the top of the wardrobe while sliding a flat palm along the ridge; his hands already gloved up.

"What a life Mount." He said thickly through his tongue which was poking out onto his lip in concentration. Patsy merely nodded pulling out gloves for herself from her back pocket.

Gloves, tampons and a pen knife. Everything a smart girl needed in life. 

Once PPE'd up she turned her attention to the so far undisturbed dresser first. The dresser was a sturdy old fixed unit by the look of it with two tiny vanity drawers set below the mirror. Probably donated to Nonnatus at some point. Patsy thought it unlikely that their victim used the voids to store makeup or anything like that and couldn't really imagine what use such additions would be to an individual who, by there very being, held onto nothing. The drawers were small things; no bigger than the width of her hand a peice. 

Hastily, aware that Dyer would comment if she was too slow, Patsy pulled out the first with a soft snick and it revealed nothing to her but naked wood which rattled oddly. Moving on quickly she pulled out the second and a small pocket sized King James poked out, almost too big for the confined space. Patsy tugged it free with some difficulty, the wood at the bottom click clacked noisily as its contents were squeezed through the cramped opening. 

Bringing the book up to the light Patsy noted that its corners, rather fancy gold edging, were bent into odd angles from the confinement. Not expecting much from something clearly forgotten she scanned a few pages at random, the rustle of paper was noisy in the tiny room and noted small underlinings in pencil beneath a few dozen scriptures. 

Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Patsy frowned and placed the book back down on the dresser. In doing so her eye was caught by a slither of darkness seemingly cut into the wood at the bottom of the second drawer. Frowning slightly she tapped a finger on the opposite side of the drawers bottom and watched it lift up. A false drawer?

Excited now she called over to Phil 'Look!' before reaching in to remove the thin plywood sheet. It was a clever thing, little grooves had been carved into the sides to hold the fake bottom an inch or so from the true one. Pulling away the wood she stared inside and found... Nothing. Dissapointed and deflated Patsy dropped the bottom beside the Bible as Phils head poked over her shoulder.

"Very clever. My old nan had something like this. They made them in the war to hide documents and stuff. Hers had loads of little nooks, we used to play on it when we were kids." He was staring at the dresser with half closed eyes before tapping rhythmically on the side panel with his hand. Patsy watched expectantly.

Absolutely nothing happened.

Patsy sighed and looked down at the rather tatty bible again. Nudging open the front cover to hide her frustration she noted the neat curved hand writing of a born teacher on the first page. The small inscription read rather pompously;  
"This tome is the solemn property of novice Winnifred." 

Patsy watched the writing owlishly, willing it to somehow tell her something about their victim that could help them. Phil was still looking at the dresser curiously as though it was full of endless possibilities.

"Did you check both drawers?" He asked gruffly already tapping the first, empty, drawers bottom. Patsy started guiltily.

"N-" Patsy never finished her words however as Phil victoriously leaned forward to lift out another false bottom and something long and white was revealed to the detectives. 

Patsy blinked, sure that her eyes must be mistaken. It didn't make any sense. Dyer was smiling now like the cat who had found not just the cream but the water bowl, a barrel of mice and an easily impressed pensioner to play with.

"Is that-" Patsy began.  
"Bloody hypocrits; always thought it." Dyer interrupted gleefully.

Reaching in Dyer removed the thing from its secret hollow. Patsy leaned in closer to double check, still half not believing, but there was no mistaking it from this vantage point. The thing was definitely real.

A pregnancy test. A bloody pregnancy test was resting in Dyers palm.

There was more to Winnifred than they first imagined it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the plot thickens. Was going to wait until Sunday but I'm pretty far ahead on this bad boy, 70% of the next ones done and the fifth chapter is halfish complete too soooo. Hope you enjoy my brain vomit, what on earth has old Winnifred been doing? Next chapter Delias popping up.
> 
> SB x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -You're what I go to school for.
> 
> Busted. What I go to school for.

"I fucking hate schools." Muttered Phil as he closed the door to the jeep. He had driven because he said it helped him think he said, she had allowed it because she really was tired now and given his track record in thinking she reckoned he needed all the help he could get. Patsy rolled her eyes jumping down from the passenger seat; safely out of sight.

They'd had a brief argument after their discovery on how best to react to the new possibilities. Dyer was convinced this meant their killer was the nuns lover; Patsy had doubts.

A pregnant nun? Well, it wasn't impossible by fact of sheer biology but did it fit in with what Julienne had said about her? And why keep it in Nonnatus, it was a pretty bold gamble that privacy would be adhered to... She felt they were missing something.

Eventually they'd concluded that if their victim had a boyfriend it was extremely unlikely that she'd confided it to someone in the nunnery. That left the possibility of a work mate with some precious inside knowledge. Phil had been all for dragging in Julienne and demanding answers but Patsy had pushed for compassion as they fruitlessly searched for anything else to go on.

The CSI's had pulled up as the thwarted detectives trudged down the stairs still arguing, unable to find anything more to go from in the sparsely decorated space. They'd passed the pregnancy test to one of the techies, just to get it checked for forensics and had watched it bagged up as evidence before idling outside on the now very hot stairs. They had smoked in silence, both keenly aware of their mutual dislike, for ten rather awkward minutes.

The old nun had begun shouting, strains of Hamlet drifting through the front door, as the CSI's entered in their paper suits and the detectives had communally decided to try their luck at their victims work place. So here they were.

Poplar Primary school was set in a small village about five miles away from the main town. It was a squat building erected around the late eighties when the local council had been forced to rip down the old one because of asbestos in the roof and wiring that was known to cause near constant power outages to residents in the adjoining street.

It was a red bricked, one floor contraption; all single glazed windows with yellowing plastic frames. Far off a strip of green playing field winked from the back end of the playground. The tarmac was greying with age and bleached by the sun but clearly well worn. Patsy couldn't help spying a single trainer poking out from a bench just through the gates.

"You don't like nuns, you don't like schools. Tell me, what do you like exactly?" She asked as they walked the short distance to the corrugated iron fence with its cows pen gates. A big pastic coated sign close by proclaimed that Poplar Primary school was an Ofsted inspected 'good school.'

There was a very strong looking lock, a government necessity since the Dunblane tragedy, splayed out between the gate and fence. Phil was already reaching to press the buzzer for the receptionist set to the side as Patsy looked through the bars with interest.

She'd never gone to primary school. The kids at the commune had all been 'home schooled' by a few of the older women when they'd had time. The lessons Patsy and her late peers had been taught growing up probably weren't on the curriculum set by any sane government although they'd all learned to read and write just fine spending much of their evenings reciting passages of the masters doctored bible.

Occasionally someone would carelessly reference books outside of the Bible and the children would sit boggled at the weird and wonderful concept of "Other words". They'd all hungered for something different in that place wrapped in fencing and reprisals but it had been prohibited with a ferocious furour by the older bunch. When the world ended who would need to understand the lies of unclean men? The master had reasoned calmly when one of the older girls had bravely asked for just such a thing over an evening meal once. Being unclean had been one of his favourite sins. They had all been unclean to him.

That girl had been flogged afterwards too. Patsy had watched with everyone else and after that no one had dared ask again.

When Patsy had been quite small, age being hard to distinguish in a life without birthdays, calenders or clocks, she'd watched, through the small top floor windows of the commune, the occasional kid wandering about with their parents far off. Going to school.

God, how she'd envied them their possibilities, their unquestionable freedoms. She'd wanted that even when she had no language to explain what _That_ was.

She'd wanted a shiny red lunch box too, the kind the other kids swung by their sides nonchalantly as they walked past her greedy field of vision. The ones filled with the sandwiches and crisps and sweeties she'd only seen a few times in the Masters magazines that the commune kids weren't suposed to know existed.

She'd even found one once, a red lunch box with a completely alien cartoon on the front, slung in a bush on the other side of the commune fence while on gardening duty. It had been a half broken thing discarded by some thoughtless child on their way to their safe, forgiving home. The longing for the small contraband item had burned at her day and night, eating away at her natural sense of safety as she lay flat in her bed to the extent that she'd eventually begun to dig strips of earth away every morning by the fence in secret with her bare hands.

Patsy recalled with aching clarity how that lunch box had consumed her waking thoughts. Every morning when she'd woken in the dorms her heart had fluttered in fear at the dreadful possibility someone might have taken her treasure away for rubbish and every morning when she'd seen it was still there, the plastic still cracked and sad, thrown away and forgotten she'd been near ecstatic to be handed another opportunity to reach her goal. The excitement of her very own secret had lit her up from the inside for almost two weeks.

A stupid want to have really, the adult Patsy relfected. What the hell would she have done with it if she'd managed to steal it away anyway? Then again, that had never really been a consideration. The possession of the lunch box had been the thing. The kite and anchor of it all.

They'd found out of course; they always did. Secrets were not frequent fliers in the commune. The master sniffed them out like a hound seeking blood and kids were not known for their stealth in such matters anyway. She never did find out who told on her. Who had seen? She'd been soundly beaten for coveting earth bound trinkets and then the older women, with their muted, hatefully passive faces had fished out that lunch box she yearned so deeply for and burned it away to less than ash in a bonfire made up specially for the occasion in one of the cast iron wheelbarrows. The small fire had smoked horribly until everyones eyes streamed with the fumes from burning plastic. The master had liked fire even then.

It wasn't fair, the child Patsy had reasoned in her simple mind; standing there in front of the congregation chastened and bleeding. She'd decided in fact, wracked with humiliation and bitterness; that she didn't want to live in a world that stopped people having lunch boxes.

And so the internal rebellion had begun.

"Fanny. Money. Women who don't think they can judge a man because they've got a few shitty letters after their name." Patsy was snapped back to the present as Dyer reeled off his answer quickly. Patsy snorted amused at the mans pride thinking about Helen.

"They don't hand those letters out for nothing. I reckon you just don't like someone who could be smarter than you." The words were out of her mouth before she could pull them back in or check herself and Patsy knew immediately she'd pushed a button. Dyer glared at her and leaned forward so their faces were uncomfortably close his voice lowering although no one else was about.

"You ever heard the saying; those who can, do. Those who can't, teach? Must have been a wise man who worked that out. You see all these crabby faced old bitches waltzing about with their 'so hard won letters.' He pressed his fingers up and down, quoting Patsy in a sing song sort of voice. Patsys jaw clenched as she bit back a retort recalling vividly how proud Helen was of her career. How hard she worked every day at Matties.

'These clever twats might be smarter than me; who knows? They spend their six hour working days sitting with kids and teaching them one plus one. Suppose they must be smart to get themselves such a cushy job. But the right to judge me? No. They don't get that. Bet any old school teacher would faint off her poor little feet the first time they watched some gurning junky crap themselves because they're jonesing so bad they can't hold it in any more. Let alone a body. Tell me, do you think they'd be ready to get out behind their safe desk if some scrote ran in wanting to fight the odds? No, they wouldn't. They'd ring me. They'd ring us. And that is why they don't get to look down on me. Fuck their poxy letters."

Someone was coming up the playground, a stocky woman with curly hair and a face so serious that Patsy almost believed the picture Dyer had painted so uneloquently for her.

Not wanting to be seen so close to Dyer Patsy took a side step as Dyer spotted the oncoming woman. Like a switch turned over his face changed into an attractive smile and he pointed it like a gun towards the newcomer. Patsy hated him. She hated him. She hated him so much.

"Headmistress Crane?" He called, his voice oily. Patsy tried not to look too disgusted as the woman stopped before the gates and pulled on an internal latch.

The cops walked through and shook the womans hand in turn. She had a very firm grip Patsy noticed, flexing her fingers as they were released to get the blood pumping again.

"I received a call of your coming. If you'd like to walk with me to my office. Classes are almost finished for lunch and I would rather the children didn't see two police officers on the premises. It will disturb them." Patsy had barely nodded before the woman turned about, her back poker straight and her corkscrew hair bouncing with each step.

Short and sweet it would be then.

The three of them walked briskly across the faded tarmac playground with its chalk painted hopscotch and numbered snake markings. The windows of classrooms were open in the warm summer heat and Patsy spied a few prepubescent faces squinting at them through the glass.

Their victim had worked here, they were walking in her footsteps as they weaved into a side door and down a narrow blue carpeted hallway.

Rows and rows of end of year pictures lined the walls. Hundreds of childrens faces; with their missing teeth, scrubbed cheeks, scabby knees and the obligatory one boy with his tongue sticking out (this is a secret universal rule, rarely referred to in academic circles. So great is its sway in such matters even the most eagle eyed tutor falls impotent to withstand its huge and incredibly specific powers) watched the procession from their places frozen in time. Half of them were probably adults by now if the dates at the bottom were correct.

The headmistress's office was like offices everywhere. A big filing cabinet against one wall, a big desk with paperwork half completed on it, a tower computer set in front of a chair on wheels and the pervading scent of instant coffee long since forgotten to go cool under the aforementioned paperwork. There was a 4x6 photo propped up with tape on the edge of the computer screen. A little dog with a ball in its mouth sitting in grass.

The two cops settled on the hardback seats as the headmistress shuffled into hers. Once down she clasped her hands and rested her chin on them, surveying the two intruders to the faculties grief. Patsy tried to catch Phils eye and tell him to go gently but she didn't hold out much hope while pushing away the unmistakable sensation that the headmistress was watching her with some interest.

"Miss Crane I'm sure you can guess why we're here." Phil stated calmly shooting Patsy a quelling glare. Crane nodded a staccato singular beat, her chin so rigid rocks could be bent around it.

"I assume it's regarding Sister Winnifred, her recent movements and behaviours. As such I have compiled a comprehensive list of said individuals hours and anything that could be of pertinent interest to yourselves." Patsy stared as a crisp sheet of A4 was handed over the desk to Dyer who, despite himself, seemed impressed by this professional ice burg of a woman.

"Err,' Phil cleared his throat noisily, rustling the paper and hastily scanning the succinct notations. 'This is... thank... in your own words for us now how would you say Winnifreds behaviour was in the last week or so." Phyllis, who had been frowning at Patsy as though trying to recall something transferred her staunch gaze to Dyer.

"I would say she was distracted in the previous week."

"Distracted? How so?"

"Her work was consistent however during break times she was distractable in regards to interacting with her colleagues. I observed her to be writing in a notebook often. It had become customary for us to discuss our various educational exploits. I'm currently learning Spanish and she her nursing. These stopped over the last fortnight and during Tuesday I observed her crying. Naturally I asked what was wrong and she cited an argument with a nun at the convent but I'm unsure if that was the meat of the issue."

"Did she have any enemies that you were aware of?" Phyllis blinked at Dyer as though the question were ridiculous.

"She was killed and her body left on a beach I am led to believe?" Patsy glanced at Dyer for some kind of inclination of how much information he wanted shared.

"Yes, that-"

"In that case I believe she has at least one enemy that we are all aware of detective. Unfortunately, I do not know their names or identities as I would pass them onto yourselves at my earliest convenience if I did."

The two cops shared a slightly dazed glance before Dyer shrugged his shoulders and tried a piercing gaze. Phyllis Crane merely pierced back. Patsy had the unmistakable impression that the woman sitting opposite would be very hard to intimidate. Phil cleared his throat again uneasily.

"This note pad... Have you any idea where it would be?"

"Unfortunately not detective. It was a black covered A5 item. Possibly she took it back to the convent with her, I advice you to search her room."

"We already have.' Dyer muttered curtly. 'If you were to hazard a guess what would you suggest her distraction was due to."

"I have no idea; prior to the change she was fully emersed in her cultural inclusion scheme." Dyer snorted at the three words predictably; he was not a man for political correctness.

"Her what?"

A bell sounded loudly pausing the interaction momentarily as a hundred plus pairs of feet stomped from classrooms. The high voices of boys and girls alike crept through the building like a blood of sorts. Balls bounced on muffled carpets, Kids cackled at jokes. The closed door rattled faintly as the lunch time pedestrians all wound their way towards the main hall that doubled as a cafeteria.

Once the flood had ebbed to the occasional trickle Crane returned to the present, her lips pouting slightly in concentration.

"Cultural inclusion scheme. There are a large percentage of Albanian workers who are working in the agricultural sector as labourers. Some have begun to bring over family members including children. These children speak little English and have remained at home to be taught there. Sister Winnifred has been systematically encouraging the inclusion and enrollment of these children over the past six months with my permission. Poplar is an aging population, fresh blood is vital and she was very keen on the subject. She had roped in small delegation of faculty. Miss Busby, Gilbert and Tom Hereward the Vicar were all involved." Busby. A name was circled In Patsys mind. Tims teacher.

"Would you say they knew Sister Winnifred well then?" Crane shrugged. Patsy still had the unmistakable sense she was being watched but for the life of her she couldn't recall the womans face... perhaps a lifetime ago, an anonymous soft pair of hands. Patsy had hardly been choosy in the bars.

"No more so than professionalism allowed, there was the inevitable barrier of Sister Winnifreds religious calling but I always found they rubbed along together fine."

Two low voices started up down the corridor and Phyllis stood up rather abruptly to walk to the door and open it.

Outside stood one woman Patsy did not know and a man she knew very well indeed. Tom, Trixies husband, dressed in his habitual black shirt and trousers with the flash of white at the throat was standing beside a short mousy haired woman. She had an Alice band in her hair. Trixie would have taken the poor thing aside and explained how that was simply a bad look for anyone in double digits or up.

Patsy narrowed her eyes as she judged the two peoples stances. Could be her imagination but to her mind they were standing a shade too close, the woman had her pale hand on Toms forearm.

_Bit familiar that._

"Ahh Miss Gilbert, Father Hereward this is Detective Sergeant Dyer and Detective Constable Mount. They're here regarding the terrible business with Sister Winnifred."

The womans eyes welled up with tears as her gaze travelled up to the two cops and she immediately turned to rest her face into Toms shoulder. He stiffened at the move, patting her shoulder rather awkwardly. As he met Patsys eyes, she thought he looked a bit sulky and he quickly moved on, his cheeks pinker than usual.

Dyer was watching the mousy teacher with interest. His lips puckered like a diabetic in front of a vending machine. Patsy looked down at his hand.

Still no wedding ring there.

Must be "in for polishing" again.

Phyllis was patting the crying teachers free arm absentmindedly, her face sympathetic but resolute.

"Now, now Barbara, we mustn't lose our heads. Sister Winnifred is relying on our metal to give the detectives what they need to catch the culprit. Come on now! Hold yourself together lass."

Barbara had withdrawn from her grasping now, more because it was hard to ignore Phyllis Crane when she was calling for internal grit than any apparent organic self impetus. Tom immediately stepped back and Barbara looked at him obviously taken aback at the sudden drawing of distance.

"Why don't we step into the office miss Gilbert? Detective Constable you can take Father Hereward for a chat and we can meet up afterwards. Miss Crane, if you would be so go to leave us. We prefer interviews on one to one basis." Phil was holding back a leer with difficulty as he watched the sorry looking Barbara. Patsy felt a faint pull of chivalry. No one deserved Phil when they were upset.

"I'm afraid I'll need to take Miss Gilbert sarge. Conflict of interest. Father Hereward is my best friends husband. We'll need to swap." Dyer flushed, surprised but Patsy didn't care she was watching mousy. Barbara, rather than relieved looked positively wretched. She'd paled even more and her eyes were going side to side, her breathing heavy. Patsy frowned. She wasn't that bad surely.

"Your friends husband!" Dyers tone suggested he had never considered Patsy might have friends. Patsy stepped over to Tom who looked shifty and gave a half hearted smile.

"You don't mind seeing Dyer do you Tom?" She asked brightly and Tom stammered.

"But...' Patsy turned to take in Dyer looking frustrated. She bit back a smirk as his piggy eyes skirted the tableau. He couldn't make a scene in front of three witnesses. She watched the dilemma pass over his face and knew she'd won.

"Fine take Miss Gilbert-Wait a moment.' He paused looking at his hands for a second expression jubilant, 'there's Miss Busby too isn't there? Right... Then I'll take these two and you go and find her. Meet back in an hour. Miss Crane, would you direct my colleague to Miss Busby? We like to work efficiently. Mr Hereward, if you could wait until Miss Gilbert and I are done?" It wasn't a request despite the obvious question marks. Barbara was already being steered into the room at lightning pace.

When the door closed behind Dyer and the nervous Miss Gilbert the three remaining voyeurs stood together slight dazed.

Phyllis broke rank first.

"Well, you heard the detective. Mr Hereward if you would wait here I shall escort Detective Mount to Class five." She pointed at a low bench by the wall and then motioned Patsy to follow.

Patsy and Tom passed one final loaded look before parting. Patsy hoped Trixie knew about Barbara. If not... Patsy had no idea if she should mention it.

There were four little steps up the corridor leading into a kind of half space with two doors. Through the first came the rattle of kids eating and through the other velvet silence. They went to the second door.

Patsy could feel the older womans eyes on her face as they strolled side by side and sighed. Probably better to get it over with now while it was just them.

"Have we met before Miss Crane?" Phyllis mistepped for a moment before regaining her equilibrium but she didn't look embarrassed.

"I believe we have but I’m struggling to recall where Constable. Your bearing reminds me of someone... but I can't seem to pick it apart." Patsy felt her spine tighten, embarrassment fighting practicalities. She'd long since shed the shame, if there was much, from her teenage years. She'd been wild back then, she wasn't anywhere near as bad these days. Thanks mainly to Helen.

"Did we sleep together?" It was, she reflected, a bit terrible that she couldn't remember every woman she'd been with. Back in the old days Patsy had never bothered with names and numbers. The teacher wasn't that old; it was possible. Phyllis had stiffened as though the concept wasn't though.

"I do not believe so, I would have remembered." She answered primly. Patsy made no response, just kept putting one foot in front of the other. She could apologise but from experience people didn't really like that immediately, you had to pick your moment.

"Did you ever teach at St Matthews?" She asked tersely as a wet room with child sized coats hung on a small forest of hooks on every wall. Two doors with class names stood out. Phyllis stopped outside the one closest eying Patsy speculatively. Matties were where the naughty kids went; everyone knew that.

"No. But I know someone who did." Patsy stood very still daring the woman to continue.

She didn't, her brows creasing in thought.

"Miss Busby should be just in here, I made her aware of your presence, she should be expecting you." Patsy nodded still waiting for her past to be mentioned but it never did. They stood together assessing one another for a moment before Phyllis, anticlimactically, walked away.

Patsy waited until the woman had gone completely before sagging, letting her heart rate slow down. She hated when people had a bit of knowledge about her; it made her small again.

Taking a deep breath she turned to the classroom, squaring her shoulders. The sign said 'Year 5' in coloured in bubble writing, the laminated edges were starting to curl as she nudged open the door and stepped inside.

The classroom was a square thing plastered in bright displays of students work. Patsy quickly took in fourteen versions of 'what we did at the beach' with attached photographs of stones and a diagram copied from a textbook of coastal defences as she entered the room.

Drawers and cupboards of various widths bracketed the walls on three sides and the tops of them all were filled with books and any manner of classroom detritus.

There were four islands of grouped tables and children sized red chairs were ranged around each island. There was another exit she noted, opposite wall left side of the big desk. There was a window that looked out onto the playground and was decorated in swirly primary coloured glue paintings. The desk had a stack of exercise books piled neatly on one edge and a big white mug with an opened bag of mint imperials beside it. The teacher, Miss Busby, was sitting behind her desk, blinking up at Patsy with polite interest.

Patsy took in the womans features quickly. Dark haired, petite, clever looking blue eyes. She didn't look like a teacher in her dark chinos and respectable but flattering top. Patsy felt oddly let down by the vision and couldn't explain to herself why exactly. Maybe she'd expected an apple somewhere to make the woman believable. She looked young too. Early thirties at most... pretty.

"Yes?" The teacher said. Patsy noted the unusual accent; Welsh. Not a local then but.... Tim had told her that already.

"Delia Busby?" Patsy asked.

"Yes, can I help you?" She sounded soft, pleasant. It was off puttingly nice actually and Patsy would bet the woman could pull off jolly if she tried. Patsy pulled at her badge hanging on her belt so the woman could see it.

"DC Mount, I think you're expecting me?" The face tightened imperceptibly as Busby recognised the badge and then whitened as she thought about her dead colleague.

"Of course, please have a seat." Delia waved vaguely at the mass of red chairs peppered about the classroom and Patsy followed the movement taking in the short, child sized options available to her. She plumped for the edge of a table, unwilling to let a potential suspect place her in a position lower than theirs. Psychology was important in these sort of moments. Patsy pulled out her a6 note pad from her pocket and slipped the pen stuck through the rings at the top out into her hand.

"I'm sorry to trouble you at work like this Miss Busby-"

"Delia. Not miss Busby. My name's Delia.' Delia gave a half chuckle shrugging slightly. 'The kids call me miss; makes me feel about sixty years old." Patsy sucked in a breath, running an appreciative eye over the womans figure not covered by thick desk. Delia was definitely not sixty years old.

Hurriedly, reminding herself firmly she was at work, Patsy looked back to her notebook. She didn't really need it. Most of the important notes would be taken out of sight but she did it more for the look of the thing. People tended to trust a notebook if they were innocent and if not... well the notebook was a good prop.

"I'm very sorry for your loss Delia' she began again liking the way the name fell on her tongue, 'and I know this is all upsetting for everyone involved but I've got a few questions for you if that's alright." Patsy phrased it like a question, kept her voice warm and conciliatory but neither of them were leaving until she'd got what she'd come for. The little woman nodded hurriedly; had probably never spoken to a cop before and felt a bit nervous. Nervous was good.

"When did you last see your colleague Delia?" Delia hesitated, her eyes flickering as she tried to answer as well as possible. She's conscientious Patsy reflected, probably double checked her locks every night and packed fourteen pairs of knickers on a weekend away.... Jesus Patsy, she told herself firmly, don't start thinking about her knickers.

"Yesterday, around four o clock." Patsy dutifully wrote the time down for the look of the thing.

"And what was she doing?" Time of death was yet to be confirmed but a final sighting would help with tracking movements.

"Waiting for a lift from Fred; the handy man at the nunnery she told me. I offered her a lift, my place is past Nonnatus and I've dropped her off before but she said no. Said she wanted to wait." Patsy frowned. Had sister Julienne mentioned Fred picking up Winnifred? She didn't think so. Something wasn't tallying up.

"And was anyone else around at the time?" Phil was talking to mousy, Crane had said she hadn't seen her. How conspicuous would a nun be?

"No. No I don't think so. Barbara was planning to meet up with a friend. A few others were going to the pub and I went home." Patsys ears pricked up at the abruptly hesitant tone. Looking up she thought she saw a flicker of something dissapear from Delias face. Some sadness pushed back in the face of the current subject.

"Why didn't you go to the pub?" Not really relevant to the investigation. Not really her business if the woman had regrets not going to the pub. But still... Patsy wanted to know. Felt oddly curious at what had made Delia look like that.

"I- My partner had a function and wanted me to drive them into town and pick them up. They were drinking and I didn't want them getting a taxi late at night." Patsy silently noted the vague use of uni-sex pronouns. She took another more interested sweep of Miss Busby.

Short, neat nails without polish, makeup but not a lot. Delia didn't look like a lesbian in the traditional, cut out card sort of way but that didn't mean anything. Some people didn't feel the need to advertise.

Delia was looking at the desk a little downcast and Patsy felt a pang of pity. So she'd given up her evening plans to take her partner to an event she wasn't invited to. Had probably sat alone at home Patsy thought. What a waste, who left a woman like this home alone?

"Right, so how would you say Sister Winnifred was over the last few weeks? Did it seem like anything was on her mind at all?" Delia frowned tapping the desk lightly. She had little hands. No scars. Patsy tried to inadvertently shuffle her hands behind her pad. She had far too many from fights and the commune.

"It's hard to say really. She had her classes and I had mine. We only saw each other at break times and I was on playground duty Tuesday lunch. She was a bit more withdrawn maybe, not as chatty the last few days but I didn't feel like it was my place to ask." Withdrawn Patsy mulled. Well supposedly she'd had an argument. Would a few harsh words make someone miserable for days?

"And how was she before that. What was she like to work with?" What was Delia like to work with Patsy wondered idly. Probably quiet but cheerful. Delia pursed her lips and reached, almost on auto pilot, to pluck a mint from the bag. Patsy watched the little white marble shape pass her lips and felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.

Holy shit. Delia probably didn't have any idea how hot that looked by the way she continued to study the bobbled surface of the desk. Patsy glanced at the desk too and had a sudden image of this woman sitting on it with her pretty blue eyes and...

Jesus, she needed help. Probably a sex addict. This was a woman she'd just met, what the hell was wrong with her?

"Well...' Murmured Delia completely unaware of what affect she'd just created, swapping the mint from cheek to cheek delicately. Patsy closed her eyes for a second to block out the image. 'It's like I said, we had our own classes and so we didn't know each other amazingly well or anything. She was...' She paused thinking of a good enough word, 'bubbly, always said hello and goodbye, the kids seemed to like her. Other than that I can't really tell you anything more constable."

Patsy stopped an eyeroll. _So, she was just a kind, lovely nun that happened to have her skull caved in. How unfortunate for Winnifred_ Patsy thought sourly. Slightly frustrated she scanned down her mental list.

"She was studying at Norfolk University to complete nurse training. Was it hard getting cover for the afternoons she was off?" Delia looked puzzled, clearly finding the question silly or pointless. The bright eyes had released the desk and her head was tilting slightly. Her body leaning forward so her chest brushed the wood... Quite a nice chest that.

_Stop it Mount!_

"No, not really, we just got a sub in one day a week, it was written into her contract when she started." Patsy drew her line of sight from the teachers chest, a stirring in her head distracting her from the less than PG thoughts there.

"A whole day? Did they do a handover before lunch or something?" She really didn't know how normal schools worked. Delia shook her head.

"No, she had Tuesdays off. It was a day release type of thing. Don't know how she was fitting it all in to be honest." Patsy paused thinking hard.

"A whole day? So not just the afternoon then?"

"No it was every Tuesday I'm sure of it. I had to cover her class and mine a few weeks ago when the usual sub had flu."

Okay... so what was the lovely, bubbly, kind nun doing on the mornings the Nonnatuns thought she was working? Current evidence suggested she was meeting a guy and getting pregnant. It didn't really fit in with everything else though.

"Right.' Patsy frowned at her note pad. 'Did you ever hear of sister Winnifred having any relationships with anyone. A boyfriend type of thing maybe."

"Sister Winnifred... The nun?' Delia looked surprised and a bit amused. 'No, I didn't think they were really into that sort of thing and she was a proper habit wearing nun. They're known not to have boyfriends constable. She wouldn't have done anything like that I don't think." Patsy sighed and put her pad on the table. As she looked up she thought she saw Delias eyes drift to her left. _Had she been checking Patsy out?_

"Is there any reason you can think of why someone would murder your colleague?" Patsy asked softly. Delia shook her head slowly.

"No. Nothing at all. She was just a teacher here, she was a good person. I couldn't tell you why anyone would do that to someone."

Well, those people existed, Patsy knew, but a nun was an odd hit to be sure. Who would hate a nun enough to kill them?

"Thank you. Now, it's just a precautionary question but can you confirm your whereabouts last night?" Delia had that chastised little girl face. Not guilty just nervous at being asked personal questions by a cop.

"I was home all night, just drove to town at ten for my partner, went to bed around eleven. I was tired." There was that unisex partner again. Patsy stifled an eye roll. Okay, fine, we'll play pretend.

"And your partner can confirm this?" She didn't mean to make the word partner sound as ironic as she had. Their eyes met over the desk and Patsy wondered how much she would see in those eyes in the right situation. Delia probably gave a lot away when she was emotional.

"Yes." The teacher didn't look away, her voice seemed almost hypnotised and Patsy blinked suddenly wondering what she'd given away in the interaction.

"Alright, we'll just need their contact details to remove you from our lines of enquiry, have you got a number I can take?"

Delia hesitated only briefly before taking Patsys pad and pen and scribbling down a number and name. J. Smythe solicitors.

She had very neat handwriting, probably had to for the job but Patsy liked the loops in her letters. Pretty and compact just like the woman. Patsys hand writing was a total mess most of the time. Patsy looked down at the name and decided to go for a punt.

"J? J for Jonathan?" Delia raised her eyebrows.

"Jessica, it's her practice, she's pretty busy but if you leave a message she'll get back to you."

The two women gazed at one another taking fresh stock. Patsy detected curiosity but no anger for her impertinent question. So Delia probably wasn't a closet case then, just a professional keeping personal life private.

"Miss Crane says you worked on a scheme with Winnifred? Was that important to her?" Delia smiled faintly.

"Very. It's a big task; most of the kids don't speak English very well and its hard to fund translators. A few of the wives come in and help. Winnifred was passionate about engaging every child." Delia sounded as though she shared the sentiment and Patsy smiled despite herself. Helen cared about that sort of thing too. Patsy couldn't help but like Delia just for that parallel.

Delia had finished her sweet and reached forward for another casting Patsy a questioning look. Patsy shook her head and looked at the wall as Delia plucked out another mint. It was as she purposefully noted a letter taped to the wall written in broken English a thought struck her.

"Did Winnifred have a desk like yours?" She couldn't stop the excitement from trespassing into her voice. Helen kept all sorts of crap in her drawers at Matties. Delia looked up surprised.

"Of course she did. It's in her classroom." Patsy stood up, the scent of mystery in her nose.

"Can you show me? It could help." Delia nodded ernestly and stood up.

She was small, maybe a foot shorter than Patsy at a stretch and as she walked around Patsy caught the faintest whiff of perfume on the air. Sort of flowery and clean. Smelled nice.

Patsy followed slightly behind as they left the classroom and walked to the other one off the wetroom.

Delias hair was half length, it swung slightly as she walked and Patsy couldn't help but watch the flash of skin peeking through. She imagined how soft that skin would feel.

This classroom was a twin of the one they had just been in. Same chairs and tables and assembled books and papers. This years project seemed to be about history. A small wall was littered with badly coloured in drawings of Knights and Queens. A little model of a castle was set on one side.

And there was a desk. Same style of wood as Delias although there was no cup or sweets. The books looked as though they'd been stacked neater too.

Delia stopped before they reached it and waved Patsy to move forward and look. Patsy brushed past lightly as she bent to reach for gloves. Delia watched her unblinking and Patsy felt a slight cocky edge make its way into her stride. She wanted to impress this woman.

Immediately she was thwarted as her first try of the drawers revealed that they were locked. Patsy rattled it slightly but the lock didn't budge. She looked up sheepishly to Delia who was still watching attentively.

"It's locked.' Well there went the ability to impress. Stating the obvious was not usually a good move. 'Do you know where the key is?" Delia paused before shaking her head.

"No. Some people keep them on them and some leave it. Although...' She seemed to be thinking quickly, 'you could try mine in the lock? All these desks are from the same place, it might work." Patsy nodded enthusiastically and watched Delia walk back out.

She sighed tapping the wood on the desk. There was a worn chair behind her and she sat down heavily looking around the room for clues.

A good, vibrant young nun had been murdered... A nun who had a secret life where she met up with a bloke? Patsy didn't buy it. The discrepancies between the time off meant something, but what? Why would someone kill a nun? Had she done something she shouldn't have? Had she told the bloke she was pregnant and he killed her? Why? Was she doing something else? Had she got involved in something and not been able to get out?

And this programme, the foreign kids. Patsy knew little about agricultural stuff but had heard the grumbling in the pub about how the workers tended to be eastern European because the labour was cheap, but kids... they didn't usually settle in one place after the harvest. How had their victim found out about it? Was she doing house calls?

Patsy sighed again and rubbed at sore eyes. God she was tired. Two hours a night was not her thing anymore; she was too old for all nighters.

Delia was back, a small key with a black rubber end connected to a keyring slipped over her index finger looking disarmingly pleased. Patsy pushed down a vague sense of pleasure at the expression.

"Try it!" Delia called sounding a little breathless and pulling the ring from her finger carefully. Patsy watched its progress up the digit feeling a blush start in her chest.

The key slid into the lock like it belonged there and turned. Delia beamed and Patsy smiled too as the first drawer opened out.

A small pile of old exercise books, a magazine for nun monthly (everything new in habits and crucifixes), a self help language book for Albanian. A small tub of paperclips.

The next was more promising; a thick volume of handwritten notations beside a list of childrens names. Patsy asked Delia why they'd be kept and Delia shrugged.

"Probably for reports. Some people are really organised and write them through the year to help remind them."

There was a roll of stickers half empty. A pencil case bulging with spare pens and at the very bottom was a small notebook. It had a black cover.

Patsy pulled it out and flicked through hurriedly. It was a school diary, September to September affair and for the main it seemed to contain only small lesson plans in red and blue biro. Patsy frowned and flicked to this week.

It wasn't there.

The pages were missing like someone had ripped them away neatly. There were faint paper bristles near the center as though the week had been removed carefully with a ruler. She frowned down at the offending gap feeling frustrated.

It was too damn coincidental that this week happened to be missing. Either Winnifred had done this or their murderer was cleaning up after themselves. She looked up at Delia.

"Has anyone else been in this room today?" Delia looked taken aback but nodded an affirmative.

"Of course, the class, the substitute. Parents drop off sometimes, the cleaner. Loads of people." Patsy scowled at the book.

Delia was peering at her questioningly. Patsy lent back on her chair feeling all at once incredibly tired and unable to stop recalling how she'd done something very similar only last night with Val. She stared at Delia across the desk wondering how she would react if she had any idea about what Patsy got up to.

Why would she even care? Muttered the back thoughts. Get a damn grip of yourself Mount. Patsy tapped the notebook lightly. the drumming of her fingers rang in the quiet space.

"Did it help?" Asked Delia quietly, reading Patsys face shrewdly. Patsy bit her lip.

"We'll have to wait and see... Thanks, you've been a real help." Delia continued watching her and Patsy looked back. Mesmerised. Delia had lovely eyes.

"She gave me a load of stuff to go through last Monday... if I find anything I'll let you know." Delia offered weakly, clearly wanting to cheer Patsy up. Patsy felt a bit of her soften at the notion that the woman wanted to help her. Odd but nice.

"That would be great, here.' She lifted her hips to pull out her card from her pocket and passed it across.

It was just a tiny moment, as Delia leant forward for the slip of paper, their fingers touched. Something like electricity ran up Patsys wrist and travelled through her whole body. A sort of susseration or bolt of lightning, a pause in Patsys personal universe. Shocked, she brought her hand back like it had been stung. Delia seemed startled as she held the card. Patsy couldn't look at her but Delia filled the space and made herself hard to ignore. Patsy stood up, fight or flight burning through her veins and grabbed the book hurriedly.

"I need to go. Call me if you find anything. I'm up most hours." Delia didn't even have time to answer, Patsy was already out the door, her ears beating the rhythm of her heart.

What the fuck was that!

The hall was still bustling with children busy with lunch. Patsy glanced about her and saw a door ajar leading out to the playground. She stalked out into the muggy heat and scanned the surroundings. A few children, quick eaters, were running about. She turned to her left and followed the path around the back of the building. There was a car park tucked behind a small wooden picket line and she stepped into a handy nook. A few cigarette butts were nestled in a plastic cup filled with sand on the floor.

Smokers corner. No matter where you worked there was always a place like this.

Patsy rolled a quick cigarette in shaky hands and lit it up as she leant against the bricks expelling smoke quickly. She felt agitated and couldn't explain why touching someone would affect her like this.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the case but the image of Delia Busby swam into focus.

God, she needed help. Proper, pay per hour, help. She'd just met the woman for Christ sake. It was official, she was going mad. Helen would be so dissapointed in her, Trixie would offer meds and visits in the psych ward, Val wouldn't care about anything but the fact Patsy wasn't around to screw...

Patsy drew in another lungful of blessed nicotine and tried to calm down.

But why? Why was she feeling like this she asked herself after five minutes of forced internal lift music. Yeah, the woman was cute... but there were hundreds of cute women roaming this earth, so what. Patsy had never felt like that so quickly around someone else. Her whole body had been jolted, it was bizarre. They'd only just met, probably wouldn't again so what did it mean?

Probably means you're a sad lonely woman desperate for affection said her annoying back thoughts. Patsy blew out air like she could blow away her own thoughts if she did it hard enough.

Could have been the carpet. Static electricity building up and earthing itself through their fingers. Patsys knowledge was hazy on physics and in any case her boots had proper rubber soles but she clung to the explanation like a ship wrecked mariner on a rock. Yes, that was probably what it was.

She'd managed to get onto her second fag when a figure loomed to her right. Some old impulse made her flick her cigarette away as the face of Phyllis Crane came into view. Patsy guiltily looked into the lined face feeling like one of the womans pupils caught in wrong doing. Phyllis raised an unimpressed eyebrow as the butt smouldered a few yards away on the pavement.

"We have a receptacle for such things I believe." She said eventually, pointing to the home made ash tray at Patsys feet. Patsy flushed.

"Right. Sorry." She muttered, embarrassed. Phyllis squinted at her for a moment.

"I know who you are." She said simply. Patsy felt her stomach drop open, her throat thickened chokingly and her feet became warm as blood rushed to her extremities. All thoughts of Delia Busby fell away as the old fear swam through her mind.

 _Bet you fucking don't_ growled the old familiar angry inner voice. She hadn't used it in years. Patsy glared at the woman fighting the urge to rip into her.

"Okay and?" Patsy growled defensively. Phyllis didn't seem accusing but that meant nothing. Everyone judged when they knew even if they said they didn't.

"You're Helens girl aren't you?" The familiar moniker brought Patsy up short and made her falter. Phyllis was waiting for a response, her face soft. Patsy struggled with the impulse to lie, to defend her privacy before relaxing bit by bit.

"Might be, what's it to you." She said rudely, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. Phyllis nodded slowly.

"Your reputation proceeds you. Do you still see Helen?" Patsy fidgeted, her heart on its second gallop in an hour, pumped ferociously in her chest.

"Might do, might not, why?" She said through gritted teeth and Phyllis's eyes narrowed, finally provoked.

"I want you to give her this.' She gave Patsy a little envelope stuck down properly with the adhesive strip. Patsy took it feeling like she was accepting a burning brand. 'We knew each other well once upon a time Helen and I. I would like very much to speak again... I have no doubt she's proud of who you have become." Patsy breathed in heavily through her nose sure she was being made fun of somehow. Phyllis merely stood before her, her face soppy stern. Patsy looked at the envelope again.

"I... I'll let her know." She said with difficulty, her body feeling weighted down somehow and the fatigue biting at her.

She didn't have it in her to fight the world anymore. She wasn't an angry teenager, she wasn't a cornered kid who had been hurt, she was a grown up. She was better than the sum of everything she'd been through... sort of.

Phyllis, to both of their surprise, reached out and squeezed Patsys shoulder. Patsy barely felt it.

"Helen and I... I’ve only heard you spoken about once to me; I know you were a good kid. I’m glad she still has you. Give her the note for me won't you." Patsy, shy and upset now, managed a bob of her head and Phyllis, correctly reading that she wouldn't get anything else, stepped backwards and nodded at the cigarette butt.

"In the cup if you don't mind Constable."

"Patience... my names Patience." Patsy whispered and Phyllis's foot hovered in the air momentarily.

"In the cup Patience then." She said kindly before rounding the corner. Patsy watched her go feeling the dred drain from her limbs.

Patsy was so bloody tired now... She really needed to sleep... and to talk to Helen. Most of all Patsy really wanted to talk to Helen right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday deadline met peeps. See you in a week.
> 
> Oh and just a slight thing; wasn't sure if the whole touch between them is believable however... I had a similar experience the first time I properly looked at my mrs. We'd worked together for like a year and I'd never even noticed her. She walked out and asked me a question and it was like lightning. Only ever felt it once. Soulmates stuff peeps.
> 
> Anyhoo, for the sake of my anxiety give me an idea if all of this is working for you guys.
> 
> SB


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Show me how to lie,  
> you're getting better all the time.
> 
> Offspring. You're going to go far kid.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur of bureaucracy and handovers between different department members.

Patsy had hastily shoved the envelope from Phyllis in her jeans pocket as Dyers voice had carried around the bend. He seemed annoyingly relaxed as they'd grunted their findings to one another and made for the jeep.

In deference to the fact that it was now full on playtime on the playground Patsy kept her head down as they walked past the wall of sound only kids can create to the gate. 

She fancied she felt eyes on her as she passed by the windows of classrooms and childishly couldn't stop herself wondering (hoping?) if Miss Busby was watching her leave.

Would she think about Patsy after this? Probably not Patsy thought irritably. Probably go home to J. Smythe and seek comfort about her dead colleague and the weird police officer who ran out of the interview because their hands had touched. 

Patsy wasn't going to tell anyone that bit.

Not even Helen. It was too embarrassing half an hour on. She really was veering to close to pathetic these days. At least back in the good old days she'd had her pride even if it had been pride in a very loosely defined sense. 

She'd never cared about stuff like feelings. The whole Val situation must be bugging her more than she was willing to admit.

Once away from the school and through the forty minute drive listening to Dyer go through each female they saw and Barbaras pros and cons where Patsy spent a lot of time carefully watching the road lest she sadly crash into a tree Dyers side, they reached the station.

Her desk was as it usually was; neatly defined chaos with everything stacked specifically and large swathes of desk still clear so she could work. Dyers desk was pressed against her own. Its mountainous stacks of detritus towered over the wood. How the man managed to find the computer beneath the clutter was a mystery to everyone.

The mess bothered her. Drew her eye irritatingly when she was trying to concentrate. 

When she'd first started she'd routinely cleaned his desk alongside hers but after six months she'd given up and nicked a few metres of blue police tape to draw a halfway line between their spaces.

Occasionally, a corner of his pile would encroach over the line and Patsy, with malicious enjoyment, would slice away the offending paper until it fell behind the line again. So far Dyer hadn't cottoned on to the true culprit and Patsy, to keep herself out of doubt, had encouraged the rumour that the CID office was home to very anally retentive mice.

While the believed infestation might not have changed Dyers hygiene habits some of the others had become noticeably cleaner. Patsy was more than happy to hand out her antiseptic surface cleaner as a result... and it was funny to scratch the wood with her nails in quiet moments and shout she'd seen a mouses tail go by. The scraping of chairs as a squeamish few pulled their legs from the floor was a balm of sorts on heavy days.

Patsy had been forced to leave Dyer filling in the rest of the team to step into DI Urusulas officer and receive a bollocking about the dead junky cases still open on her books. She'd hastily promised to see The Toff first thing next day and see if there was anything to go on in both of the cases which placated her boss enough she was allowed to return.

Ged, the teams computer guy, was waiting to tell them all nothing had come up yet on Homes Indexing. Homes was the inter area search engine used by every force in the country. If their murderer had done something similar before somewhere else they'd get a ping from the software. So far there was a large amount of deaths on beaches but the majority were suicides. A few maffia hits also included teeth removal but it seemed unlikely this was a relation to their case.

They'd spent an hour hashing out their thoughts on the white board, passing information but there was little new stuff for Patsy to go on.

She looked carefully at the crime scene photographs and pictures of Winnifred as the others chatted. She had red hair, the natural kind like Patsys sister had... which was not important now. 

It really wasn't she told herself firmly. Some ghosts were better left in the past. She should stop carrying them round, there were just too many to keep on her shoulders some days. Too many faces. Too much...

She was tired now. The clock showed five and the team seemed ready to go home. Patsy got to her feet and joined the throng to the door.

Dyer was still at the computer tapping lightly away and Patsy paused to watch him. Dyer at work was a rare sight indeed and Patsy wasn't entirely sure what he was up to.

"Anything you need me to do Sarge?" She called guiltily, glancing at the pile still waiting for her on the desk. Dyer barely looked up.

"Nah, get gone Mount. Vals cooking something for me so thought I'd wait a bit and grab something decent for myself on the way home. You never know with her cooking." Patsy felt her jaw grow rigid and nodded weakly before stalking out.

She had a bag of prawn cocktail flavoured crisps waiting for her at home. How very bloody nice for some.

She didn't speak to anyone as she walked out the car park and clambered into her jeep. The summer sun had unhelpfully set up a sauna in the enclosed space of her car and Patsys back stuck to the seat horribly as she threw her phone onto the passenger seat and pushed her key in the ignition forcefully.

She sped out the car park a little too fast, a few heads turned her way and she forced herself to calm down. She was upset not stupid. Helen would kill her if she died in a car accident, the woman had issues with driving safely. Reluctantly, Patsy brought her foot off the accelerator pedal where she had been imagining Dyers face.

She needed to learn to let things go.

So what if Val was cooking her husband a nice fucking dinner. So what if she sat in front of it all night waiting like a dog for Dyer to turn up. It wasn't Patsys business what the happy couple did in their time. Val was only fucking Patsy after all, Val didn't love her or anything crazy like that. That meant they weren't doing the thing where they ate together. Or went to the movies or talked about things. No one ever wanted to do that with Patsy... 

A shame because Patsy had begun to want that a bit. Wanted to come home and have someone ask her about her day. Wanted... Someone to be hers. Just a bit.

She was in pain it dawned on her.

Something was poking into her leg from her pocket and she patted at it, not knowing what it was. Her fingers traced an offending corner that was digging in through the jeans and recalled the stalwart face of Phyllis Crane. 

Of course. The letter... Helen.

Patsy paused at a section of lights and then, wanting the distraction, reached across to press the speed dial on her phone. It connected up smoothly to the Bluetooth she'd bought specially as an upgrade to the jeep and relaxed as the phones dial tone filled the clammy space.

"Helen Shipman, how may I help?" 

Patsy smirked as Helens patented work voice rang through the phones speaker. She loved catching her in professional mode.

"I've got something long in my pocket and I'm aching to give it to you." Patsy aimed for breathy and deep and heard the proceeding pause as Helen checked her caller ID before replying.

"Patience' she began, sounding tired but amused, 'I've told you before; if it fits in only one hand you can keep it." Patsy wasn't deterred, she wanted to be a weight in someones world. She felt reckless.

"What are you wearing?" 

Helen didn't miss a beat.

"A 3D hot dog suit with paper mache mustard and ketchup." She was picking up animation now, playing along. Patsy groaned theatrically.

"Nice... And a thong?" 

Helen tutted, calling off the game.

"Did you call just to be immature or was there an actual reason?" 

Patsy laughed, letting the feelings of anger drift away. Let herself focus on the imagined image of Helen leaning back in her swivelling office chair, rubbing at the small footprints left from her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she checked to see no one could overhear from outside her office.

"Bit of both really. Wanted to double check you remember we're going out on Saturday. Doing my bit for age concern and all of that." 

"I wasn't aware you'd swapped roles. Charity doesn't suit you much." 

Patsy grinned and pressed down on the accelerator as she reached winding country bends.

"It's more freelance work at the minute."

"Just picking on old women at random? Good to know age holds new terrors of its own."

"It's just the one at the moment, don't get too excited... and anyway, less of the old woman rubbish. Saturday night I expect to find you decked out in something black and short, the whole shabang. I fully intend to paint the town red by your side." 

Helen huffed and Patsy wondered if her feet were swelling up again. Stubborn mare refused to wear the orthopaedic set Patsy had bought her a few months ago because she said it made her feel like a grandmother.

"Patience, I will be turning fifty on Saturday. Fifty year old women do not paint towns red." 

Patsy paused to let a small herd of cows cross the road.

"Fine; hobble into your snazziest cardigan and I'll pop your zimmer frame in the boot." 

"Where are we going?" Helen asked warily. Patsy nodded to the farmer and sped off.

"It's a surprise but I can tell you I have tickets."

"How much do I owe you?" 

"Helen! It's a gift, you don't owe me anything. In fact if I see that God awful purse at any point I'm throwing it into the river." Not actually a joke that.

"You're not that good a shot Patience. I'll pay for the drinks." 

Patsy squeezed the steering wheel pushing down the immature irritation at having her gifts pushed away. Helen never seemed to understand how much Patsy owed her. It was maddening.

"No. You won't."

"We'll see shall we." She sounded far too certain she'd win. Patsy tapped her wheel again considering the envelope stuffed in her pocket.

"I met an old friend of yours today... I really do have something in my pocket for you."

"During work hours, an old classmate of yours?" Helen asked gently, switching roles in a heart beat.

Patsy shook her head even though Helen couldn't see. Sadly, it wasn't unheard of to meet ex Matties people in her line of work.

"Thankfully not. It was a headmistress; Crane, Phyllis Crane. Seems she remembers you fondly." Curiousity burned at her, wanting to know how Crane knew Helen but she made the statement lightly as the soft tick of the indicator sounded and she steered around a narrow corner. Helen seemed to be locked in thought, her voice distant when she replied.

"Crane? That's... what did she say?" 

Patsy was forced to break abruptly as a car up ahead was hogging the main road as it tried a sloppy three point turn. The car was sporty with big wheels and an open top. A woman in a suit was driving next to a blonde with big tits in a summer dress. They were giggling to one another. It might look sweet to some.

Sadly, Patience was not feeling her name sake in regards to summer lovers. She glared through the window at the women.

"Nothing much, gave me her number-"

"A rather usual situation for you I have no doubt." Helen intoned dryly. 

Patsy gave no retort merely shifted in her seat scowling at the pigs ear of a manoeuvre being acted out ahead of her. The dark hair of the suited woman poked through the open roof and Patsy narrowed her eyes as the sports cars back wheels spun up bits of mulch onto the verge. Typical; flash woman buys a big car and can't drive the damn thing.

"Yeah, well, not as usual as once upon a time. She said you used to know each other and wished to return to regular correspondence... She knew me by our original association; are you sure you can't remember her?" 

Helen paused again and Patsy, only half listening, wordlessly mimed an impatient 'move' gesture to the occupants in the car in front. 

"Can't say that I do. I used to have a fair few correspondences though. Possibly she's an ex alumni of Matthews. Must... she must be doing well for herself if she's headmistress." 

Patsy glanced down at the phone beside her, vaguely regretting her eager decision to ring Helen rather than tell her face to face. She could read the woman better in the flesh. Right now she had no guide to tell her if the woman was lying or not and the tone seemed off... but there was no need to lie. Patsy was possibly being overly suspicious. Helen wasn't a suspect, Helen was Helen. Case closed.

"She gave me a letter for you, shall I drop it round Saturday?" The car in front had finally pulled up in a straight line, spewing mud and brash from its low back bumper. Patsy waved again irritably and then audibly hissed as the woman, the posh bitch in a power suit, shrugged angrily back before accelerating off the way Patsy had come.

The rev of the sports cars engine seem to roar as it passed by and made the half open windows of Patsys jeep rattle. Patsy snapped about to pick out the registration plate through the back window before it rounded the bend and just spotted the womans hand poking through the roof to flash her a two fingered salute. Personalised plate too. Snooty cow!

"Are you driving?" Helen asked briskly and Patsy turned the right way round hurriedly feeling guilty. Helen had strong views about conversing while driving.

"If I lie will you keep talking to me?" Patsy asked lightly moving the car on from its stationary position.

"No. I'm going to let you go now Patience." Patsy sighed.

"Helen?"  
"Patience." They both faltered speaking at the same time. Patsy went first wanting to hear Helen laugh.

"I was right about the thong wasn't I?" 

Helen sighed dramatically before letting out a reluctant chuckle.

"I will see you on Saturday providing you aren't busy being put on a list. Six alright with you?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Remember; I'm looking for glamour if you want to stay on my arm all night." She was pulling up into the fringes of Poplars town now, the high roof of Nonnatus peeked out behind the town halls clock tower in the distance.

"Yes, I'll make a mental note... Be kind to yourself Patience. Goodnight." 

"Night Helen." The phone clicked off as Patsy stopped at the lights chewing her tongue gently.

Be kind to yourself. Helens official parting line whenever they spoke; the same farewell she'd used since Matties. It was, Patsy knew, a good phrase. A testament to the womans kindness and boy had it been needed at times. Across the long years they'd trudged through together Helen had managed to make those four words mean through tone alone a variety of things. These could range from anything really; from 'I want to break your jaw' to 'I love you' to 'take time to think about what you've done you complete idiot.' 

Say what you wanted but it took character to say so much with so little material.

Helen Shipman.

Patsys Helen.

Helen had been just another outsider looking in when Patsy had first been sent to St Matthews school for challenging children. A useless well meaning adult in a long succession of useless well meaning adults.

She'd been a PE teacher originally, an avid man United supporter and she'd done extra courses for counselling. Technically she'd been the trauma specialist although in Matties, as the kids affectionately called it, classes usually compromised of ten students at most with three 'teachers' and the lessons tended to focus on things the kids wanted to learn like how to roll really good cigarettes rather than what they had to. Matties was the school you were sent to when everyone had given up on you after all.

Helen had been Patsys assigned tutor and initially Patsys attitude had been nothing short of outrightly offensive to the woman. She'd mocked Helens shabby clothes and mannish haircut to her face, delighting in the fact Helen couldn't do anything in response other than give out slips for detentions that Patsy never attended.

Helen, for her part, had been patient and attentive when she could but dulled from seeing so much crap over the years in Matties that she took everything with a sad sort of expectation. They'd muddled along through a few terms with Patsy turning up late, leaving early and ignoring the woman all day for the most part.

Sometimes, during those early days Patsy had thought she had felt Helen watching her in class, assessing her, but despite her best efforts and paranoia had never managed to catch her at it. Out of self defence she'd never stopped to wonder why- had put it all down to the fact that Helen would obviously have read her file when Patsy first turned up and was curious about the 'Girl freed from the Evil Cult.' Thats what the newspapers had labelled her. It was what her social workers muttered in the halls where they thought she wouldn't hear them.

Patsy had almost made herself believe that she didn't care if Helen was curious or not during their stagnant conversations. The lie hadn't been that hard to come up with. Patsy hadn't cared very much about anything back then; she'd been too in her own mind to feel anything but anger at the whole wide miserable world for everything that she'd been through.

And boy oh boy had she been angry. She'd been raging as hell in fact and entirely committed to making sure everyone knew about it.

Back then Patsy had been a storm cloud of a human being; fights with anyone who crossed her path whether they'd deserved it or not, pushing everyone far enough away that they couldn't hurt her. Always she'd been terrified of keeping an arms length distance. It was one of the reasons she got passed around so much.

She'd always known Helen dissaproved obviously. Had thrown her admonishing letters addressed to her keyworker at the childrens home over the fence on the walk back after school in contempt but hadn't cared enough to ask her about it. She didn't want to make Helen think she cared.

It might have stayed that way; the two of them reluctant companions on their pointless voyage into academia had Patsy not begun to venture out to the bars in town. 

She'd first started doing it as a kind of game or challenge with herself to see how often she could outwit the night staff when she was fourteen. Her trick had been sneaking out of the home through one of the vandalised bathroom windows as soon as the others were asleep. She'd been quiet, the commune had long taught her the value of silence.

The hardest bit had been getting back in and washing off the smell of sex, beer and cigarettes before any of the staff spotted her. 

Ahh the sex; well, there were only a few things a girl could get up to that late at night after all. She'd ended up looking for something in those endless bars night after night, the only shame was that she hadn't then had the maturity to know the name of what it was. Love probably, that's what Helen had said once when they spoke about it. One thing was for sure though; she never found it in any of the places she ended up.

She'd beelined anywhere with beer and hung around the bars until someone bought her a drink because she didn't have any money herself. She'd gotten smarter as time went on; avoiding the blokes when she could. 

Then she'd found women of course. A whole new lesson to learn wrong.

She'd stumbled on the big gay bar by accident one night after being thrown out for having no ID somewhere else. She'd avoided it before because the pink paint outside and well lit inside made her worry she'd be caught but something about that night... it had been a different world to hers.

The women there had been an entirely different species, they'd laughed and for once Patsy hadn't worried it had been aimed at her. She'd found people who were mirrors to the life she wanted and to her now much older shame she'd been just about anyones for a few pints of something alcoholic.

It had become a habit to go there. A few months where no one had asked her questions besides 'my place?' She'd thought she was invincible, completely in control and powerful... until she'd been rumbled by Helen.

She'd been in the club one night when she'd recognised her tutor at the bar with a few decidedly butch looking women. The woman Patsy had been hanging around with, Patsy never bothered to learn their names, had suggested they go back to her flat. Patsy had agreed just for the excuse of getting out before she was caught. She'd been a tall fourteen year old and she looked older than her age but Helen would know the truth. Helen would know everything and the power would go.

She should have known she'd be seen.

Helen had spotted her as Patsy and the randomer had walked past the bar to the door. Patsy had been forced to make a run for it in the end when she clocked Helen looking incredulous and beyond angry striding purposefully towards them, leaving both women in the dust as she'd sprinted through the door and into the cool anonymity of the night air. 

The next day in class Patsy had felt Helen glaring at her through registration and had been completely unsurprised to find herself being asked to wait behind as the others mooched off to their rota'd activities. She'd almost ignored the call but something about the hard set to the older womans face had made it quite clear that she would have chased Patsy down if such an attempt had been made again.

Helen had questioned her about what she'd seen of course, had demanded to know what her underage student was doing leaving with a forty something woman who had no idea about Patsys actual age.

Patsy had sat stony faced and unspeaking; hadn't planned on spilling any secrets that day but Helen had pushed her, prodded and needled like a dog with a bone until she'd uttered the infamous line 'what would your mother have said?' Patsy had snapped like a kit kat on a hot day. She'd slapped Helen so hard the older woman had toppled off her desk, her lip cutting on her teeth with the sheer force of Patsys ire. Patsy hadn't meant to do it, she'd just lost control; the anger spilling over before she could contain it. 

That could have been the end. 

Matties had a zero tolerance policy to staff assaults and they prosecuted every offense reported with more diligence than they applied to any other branch of their roles. Patsy had watched helplessly as Helen had picked herself up off the floor, sure her fate had been sealed, certain she'd finally hit that brick wall she'd been running towards since she'd been lifted from the commune three years previously.

The next thing she'd known however was Helen kicking her legs out from under her and Patsy had been grappled by the throat to the floor. They'd spent a good twenty minutes on that floor, rolling about fighting. It had been gloriously cathartic, to finally let go and not care how badly she appeared to someone who already knew the worst of her. Patsy had managed another slap but Helen had been shockingly strong, she'd flattened Patsy so effectively there had been no escape. That had been good too.

Eventually, out of sheer awe at the womans gumption Patsy had lain very still and listened as Helen explained in no uncertain terms that things were going to change; Patsy was going to apply herself at school, she was never going back to the bars again and Helen was going to make sure she did this or there would be the biggest reckoning Patsy had ever encountered.

They'd gotten up together half an hour later dusty and bruised with a new kind of understanding between them. Patsy had gone to class and thought very carefully about the incident. She'd been ashamed of herself but also she'd been oddly at peace, something had clicked into place, something had changed. Someone had been strong enough to put her within boundaries.

From that moment on she'd been Helens girl. Or that's what people started calling her, to her ears it sounded better that cult girl so she'd accepted it gladly. 

The need to punch anyone in range subsides in piques and troughs. Out of boredom born from this free time she'd started paying attention to classes to the point that the other teachers noticed and started to teach actual lessons to her.

She'd stopped going to the bars as often and definitely evaded any further opportunities to be caught. The fear of dissapointment at finding herself in a position to make Helen that angry had been wages enough. She'd become changed.

Helen had changed too, she didn't sit idly by anymore, content to watch the car crash in front of her. She had pushed Patsy every day, nearly killed her with sheer volume of homework in a bid to make up for the time Patsy had lost in school. Even made her join before and after school sports clubs to help her stay out of the orphanage as long as she could and, though she never said it, to possibly exhaust Patsy in a bid to stop any night time excursions. Within two years Patsys grades were so high they might as well have had wings. She'd got better grades in her final exams than any of her classmates. 

It was Helen who took her to pick them up too. To pick out her grades in the big gym with its scary table full of envelopes only a few bothered to turn up for. Helen who hugged her and said she was proud, Helen who took her out for a celebratory meal afterwards and over a burger had offered Patsy a proposition to go to six form with the blinding assurance that she felt Patsy could do this. 

Helen had somehow become her person. The person who cared about her, who told her she was proud and meant it. Patsy could never repay that kindness no matter what she did.

They'd never physically fought after that first time. Oh, they'd rowed sometimes, the two of them equally stubborn, they'd even stopped talking for a few days once or twice but that was different. Patsy would rather chop it off than raise a hand to Helen ever again and bit by bit their teacher student dynamic had changed to a friendship based on mutual respect. Such was the strength of which meant that Patsy had gone to live with Helen when she turned sixteen and the state had been no longer required to house her. 

There hadn't been a six form at Matties because the students weren't expected to go anywhere academically so Helen had taken her to the local college for two years. Had coaxed her when she wanted to give up. Had shown her more care and compassion than Patsy had known or experienced during the course of her entire life.

Patsy had fallen a little bit in love with her in those intervening years. It was sort of impossible not to. Half the lesbians who Patsy saw through the school and later life were in love with Helen. Helen had her own kind of gravity. Even now, Patsy held a kind of torch for her. 

A low grade love for Helen, the woman who had never asked anything from Patsy but for her to be the best she could. Of course Patsy had been helpless to do what she could to fulfil that simple request. Still was. Helen deserved not to be dissapointed.

During the years living together Patsy had not given up seeing women completely of course, that jeanie was too far out the bottle to go back in, but she'd been more circumspect in her actions. For example; she'd always made sure to tell Helen if she was going to be staying over at someones when they lived together. A nicety no one else would have had from her. 

Patsy always went to the other womans house too, her conscience uncomfortable with the idea of bringing a girl home with her. It had always seemed terribly disrespectful to do That in Helens house.

She was not alone in this belief though.

Helen was terminally single Patsy had soon found out living with her; she never had girlfriends or even friends she slept with. The picture had never added up fully to Patsy who wasn't blind and was very aware of the womans prescence. Helen wasn't beautiful in the way movie stars were but she had a kind of glamour about her. Patsy had often wondered why she chose to be alone but had never been brave enough to ask.

Helen wasn't secretive as such but she certainly had never confided in Patsy about her sex life. Helen was most likely gay, she'd been far too understanding of Patsys activities to not be and besides; Patsy had seen her in a gay bar with a bunch of women she knew for a fact were family. The woman was a PE teacher for Christ sake. Patsy had got through life on the simple assumption that if it walks, talks and looks like a duck than that thing is a duck. Even if Helen was the kind of duck that didn't seem to do any ducking.

Only twice had the subject been broached. The first had been a few weeks after Patsys eighteenth birthday. They'd been drinking wine because Helen liked it. Patsy hadn't liked it much back then but after a bottle was willing to admit wine had its good points. Pretty pissed and falsely brave she'd put her hand on Helens leg. She'd asked if Helen wanted to go to bed with her boldly, laying the offer before the older woman half terrified that she would say yes and half elated she'd finally asked. 

She would have done it too. If Helen had wanted it, Patsy would have given her everything she had. She'd wanted to give Helen everything, wanted to make her happy, wanted to show her how thankful she was to her. 

There had been the pause of ten seconds perhaps, although at the time it had seemed much longer, as Helen had looked down at Patsys hand, her face unreadable as she had slowly reached to cradle and lift it back into Patsys lap. She'd given no other response, just gone back to the television and Patsy had made her excuses and gone to her room. Neither had mentioned it again.

The second time had been much later. Patsy had moved out, was already a cop. Helens mother had died unexpectedly in a car crash and Helen had called her in the early hours a complete mess. It had been scary seeing the woman so out of control, seeing her look so broken. Patsy had driven over and spent the rest of the night consoling her over a few obligatory bottles of wine as best she could. Helen hadn't been all that close to her mother and maybe that was why it hurt so much more. Patsy had put Helen to bed in the end just as the sun was peeking over the hills. The woman had been fading against her shoulder on the sofa having cried herself out.

Patsy had just deposited Helen in her bed and gently pulled the covers over her before making to leave for her own room. In that moment Helen had reached out to pull her back, the first time she'd ever really done that, a different kind of pull maybe and their eyes had met. Patsy had seen enough of life to understand what the look meant, what Helen had wanted from her but didn't want to say out loud. 

She'd got in the bed with her, slid in from behind and then they'd both been caught by the strangeness of the feelings in that embrace. Perhaps they could have done something, neither of them were dead yet and there wasn't anything stopping it. Except them and what they were to each other. Helen had turned around and stroked Patsys face sadly and Patsy hadn't really known what to say for once. Choked.

They'd gone to sleep in the end.

The next morning they'd woken up knowing nothing like that would ever happen between them again. It wasn't meant to be. A different love. 

Helen Shipman... And now Phyllis Crane knew her somehow. The duck may have swam after all. 

Patsy wasn't really sure what to make of that idea.

She was snapped back to reality as she spotted a familiar blonde head bobbing in the sun as its connected body strode down the main street. 

Patsy slowed and wound down her window to wolf whistle. Trixie paused and twisted about to find the caller; her incredulous face quickly shifting from irritation to a wry grin as Patsy swept past and parked in one of the parking bays besides the shops.

Trixie waited patiently as Patsy climbed out and walked to meet her. The blonde looked as tired as Patsy felt after a long shift, her sleeves rolled up even more in the slick heat and her top button undone. She was tapping her toe lightly as Patsy closed in and wrapped her in a hug. She smelt of antiseptic and clean honest sweat.

It took Patsy a moment to realise that Trixie had not hugged her back. Her arms limply stayed at her sides and Patsy stepped back to look at her carefully.

One look was enough.

"You've heard the news then?" Patsy felt fatigue tug at her as this wank of a day continued to stretch out longer and longer before her very eyes. She probably should have kept driving. Might have been asleep in ten minutes if she had...

"Pats!' Trixie widened her eyes in exasperation. 'Yes, of course I've heard, the whole towns talking about it. Is it true? Is sister Winnifred-" She placed her beautifully manicured nails to her mouth as though stifling the final word. Patsy nodded gravely and watched Trixies cheeks drip with the obligatory tears. 

Realising they were making a scene when a wide shouldered woman nudged past pressing the edge of her handbag against her back Patsy pointed to a row of empty picnic tables across the road. Wordlessly, they walked over to it and sat down. Patsys overworked brain gave a few tired spins with a bit of mental prodding as she surveyed her friend.

She'd forgotten Trixie worked with the nuns. 

The normal nurses worked alongside Nonnatun's every day which offered unconsidered opportunities for insight. Trixie could be her deep voice... God, she really was a cynical bitch deep down Patsy thought glumly. A woman had died and she was already considering using her friend for information.

Still; although Winnifred had been a teacher Trixie might know something. She was a keen gossip Patsy knew... but Trixie was also her mate she reminded herself carefully. She needed to tread softly.

"Listen Trix, you work with them all, what's the gossip? Anything juicy being said to do with Winnifred at all." 

Trixie stopped crying abruptly to stare at Patsy for a moment, the eyes accusing.

"Sorry, sorry.' Patsy waved her hands slightly at her sides in vague apology. 'I know it's poor taste to ask so soon but you didn't see her Trix, I want this bastard. What if it's a psycho getting warmed up? It's in our town not on some TV show; I need to keep people safe." Trixie was watching her blank faced for a moment but Patsy could tell she'd said the right thing; the blondes eye were moving as though reading off an internal sheet invisible to anyone beside her. Thinking.

"Nothing directly about Winnifred exactly, although... Evangalinas in bits over all of this. Did you meet her? She's the big nun." Patsy snorted.

Hard to miss her Trixie.

"Yeah I saw that one. Wouldn't want to mess with her." Trixie nodded thoughtfully still locked in her own mental diary.

"Well, apparently she's all broken up today because they argued Tuesday night. Not sure what started it but Evangalina thinks she upset Winnifred enough to make her run away from the convent. She told Winnifred she wasn't devoted enough or something and Winnifred went off crying." Patsy sucked at her tongue considering the idea. The argument sister Julienne and Delia had mentioned. Would that really be enough to make someone kill though? Somehow she couldn't picture it.

"Do you think Evangalina would kill someone?" Patsy asked delicately, struggling with the idea. Nuns just didn't seem like killers although the womans size would help if she needed to whack someone and drag them to the sea. Trixie looked shocked.

"Evangalina? Have you been smoking something that would get you sacked? No! Evangalinas got hard edges I'll admit and she can be overly firm on occasion but she'd never hurt anyone. None of the Nonnatuns would, they're good people." Trixie had her most prim nursey voice on and Patsy wisely backed off.

"Alright, alright. I was only asking because I have to Trix, you know how it is. I didn't mean to accuse anyone here, it's a murder enquiry after all."

"Yes, well, I'll personally vouch for Evangalinas character." Patsy considered her friend as she withdrew a case from her pocket, pulled out a fag and began to absentmindedly suck on the end of her cigarette.

"You really like her?" Trixie smiled a tad ruefully.

"She's an acquired taste I'll admit but then again, so are you Pats." 

Ouch. Thanks a lot Trixie. 

Patsy looked down at her boots before she could stop herself and by the time she had caught the old habit and tipped her head back up reflexively Trixie was staring almost pityingly her way. Patsy inwardly fortified herself. It was true of course, just never nice to hear it said. 

Trying to be brisk and business like Patsy returned to her list of enquiries.

"And that's it then? No other gossip about her?' Patsy tried to hide her dissapointment. If Trixie hadn't heard it then there really wasn't any gossip to be had. Mind you, how much could a nun really get up to? The police were still missing something. Something obvious.

A new burst of inspiration shot through her head.

"What about the school? Has Tom heard anything, he goes up there doesn't he? He must have heard gossip." Trixies frown reemerged, two lines appearing between her eyes.

"Tom can't really talk about any work stuff you know that. Confessions are between him and his parishioners.' Trixie gave the faintest sniff that told Patsy very clearly how much Radio Franklin dissaproved of this unpopular news censorship.

"I'm not asking about confessionals Trix just a better view of the dynamics. She wasn't a nurse and you're telling me you don't believe it was a nun. I don't think they did it either so if it wasn't one of them then surely it has to be tied into the school somehow. What do you know about the staff?" Trixie pouted, thinking carefully.

"Not a lot. Toms been working with Barbara, Miss Gilbert, on a few things with the church and some basic RE stuff. Toms very keen and Barbara is an absolute sweetie." Patsy thought about that statement for a moment, considering how jumpy the little teacher had been.

"I don't know Trix; she looked a bit nervy when I met her." Trixie rolled her eyes.

"Well of course she was, unlike some people having two police detectives turn up to your place of work asking about your dead colleague is quite a harrowing experience you know." Patsy nodded gently as she shuffled her feet and hesitated before asking the next question; she had a more personal reason for wanting to know this answer.

"What about that other teacher... the Welsh woman, Delia Busby? What do you know about her?" She'd gone for nonchalant and watched happily as Trixie perked up at the name.

"Delia?' Patsy managed not to snort at Trixies extensive knowledge of Poplars residents; it was difficult sometimes not to find it annoying. The blonde was just so bloody personable, everyone got on with her; Patsy might dislike her for that fact if she wasn't so good at being likable. Even so, Trixie had only been in Poplar for three years after all and somehow seemed to be on every damn commitee, club and society in what felt like a fifty mile radius. Patsy had lived in Poplar on off for her entire life and no one even nodded to her in the street. 

Trixies smile faltered across the table as she looked at her friend suddenly suspicious. 'But why do you want to know about Delia?"

"You know her then?" Patsy asked cooly; fumbling in her pocket for her own cigarettes, wanting to have something to do with her hands lest their tell tale twitchings give her away.

"Yes, Tom mentioned her to me when she first started last September. Poor thing didn't know anyone and you know I love an out of towner. Lovely lady, very kind; she's joined the St. Johns ambulance crew during the weekends. She was an EMT, then did the one year study add on with the degree to be a teacher."

Patsy considered this rather attractive image idly, wondering what the good Miss Busby looked like in her ambulance uniform. The thought was almost as intriguing as the idea of the womans desk and its varied opportunities.

"Right...' Patsy pouted as she chewed her words, wondering if she should push for more information and not come across as transparent. 

Careful now Mount. 

'And what's her partner like? The solicitor?" She tried to sound like the question was throw away but Trixies gaze hardened perceptibly as she tipped her head back, eyes boring into Patsy, accusing her.

"Jessie? Can't say I know her that well, she's starting up her new practice so she works a lot... But why would you want to know about Delias girlfriend Patience?" Asked Senior Sister Beatrix Franklin. Patsy shifted slightly in her seat trying to affect an air of a consummate professional jilted in the course of her sacred and most importantly, platonic, duty.

"This is a murder enquiry Trixie, every detail counts."

"Right." The sarcasm was withering turning cold as Trixie squinted at her friend. Patsy had long ago perfected innocent confusion and wore it well as she stared back wide eyed.

"It was only a question Trix." Trixie tapped the butt of her cigarette on her knee a few times in mute agitation.

"I like Delia Patsy. She's a nice girl, her girlfriend is a nice girl. They're a nice couple." Trixies warning was delivered without the unspoken ending of; so don't fuck it up because you like a challenge. Patsy relented from her friends ire hastily.

"Alright; they're lovely married off gays I get the message. Honestly; you make it sound like I'm a homewrecker or something."

"How is Val?" Trixie asked pointedly, Patsy deflated smiling half heartedly at her friends protective stance against any woman she came into contact with.

"How should I know." She answered blandly and Trixie tutted.

"You're working with her husband Patsy and I don't like him. The mans a beast, I don't know what he said to old Monica Joan but it took two boxes of jaffa cakes to stop her quoting Shakespeare at everyone and scaring the kids in for their jabs." Patsy laughed out loud at the thought. Trixies voice was the terminal snap of a mouse trap.

"It's not funny, she's not got all her faculties, anyone with half a brain could see that." Patsy sighed and looked out to the scrubby dune close by with its yellowing grass twitching in a faint breeze.

"Well, Phil Dyer doesn't have half a brain does he? I wasn't laughing at the nun crying, I'm not that much of a cow. Look,' She went on as Trixie still glared mutinously, 'I don't like him either. The mans a prick but he's the sergeant not me and he's the one who's going to get the bad guy." Trixie tutted.

"That might be so but if he finds out you're sleeping with his wife I don't fancy your chances in a fight." Patsy snorted. She'd long ago accepted she would probably get a few knocks eventually from some angry husband. Hell, she might even admit that on occasion she'd deserve it, but she wasn't hugely concerned. Patsy knew how to take things like that, how to roll with the punches to take away some of the sting and besides; how was Phil ever going to find out anyway. Val was sure as shit never going to pull them out the shadows and Patsy didn't care enough to try anymore. Maybe at first she'd had a few hopes but a year down the line...

Trixie was staring at Patsy across the bench and Patsy straightened, watching her right back.

"Look, I really could do without a sermon Trix. Tom's the priest, not you. I don't sleep with anyone who isn't able to decide they want to and I've never made anyone any promises either." Trixies shoulders went down a few notches but her expression became long suffering.

"I wouldn't say it Pats but you do have a history of breaking hearts." Patsy fought back a harsh retort, unapologetic and defensive in the face of her friends judgement. It wasn't Trixies place to tell her what to do dammit!

"Hearts? Oh come on, that's so not true, name one." She should have tried a different avenue, Patsy knew it immediately as Trixie tilted her head, face calculated.

"Sally Graves." Patsy groaned as an image of a girl with long blonde hair and the ignored but not forgotten desperate voicemails that slowly turned into painfully accurate rants about 'fucking women who don't call back'.

"A one night stand on a Christmas do that you made me go to by the way. It was never going to go anywhere and I don't know why she was so salty, I mean, I bought her breakfast the next day." Trixie lit her cigarette and took a deep pull, pursing her lips.

"She dumped her boyfriend, got a tattoo of your name on her leg and left the village when you wouldn't go out with her again." Patsy rolled her eyes recalling the embarrassing scene on the front when Sally had driven onto the beach in tears with ultimatums and an ikea bookcase poking out the back window of her volvo.

"Which suggests emotional attachment issues. Who falls in love after one drunk night?" Trixie inclined her head as though conceding the point.

"Alice Fuller." Patsy sighed. Trixie had a bit of a point on that one. A pretty but mousy desk sergeant at the local station. She'd been sweet, they'd chatted about the abysmal local football league a few times before shift and for a few months Patsy had barely noticed her as a female, just remembered that she liked her coffee three sugars with milk. How was she supposed to know she'd become the womans fancy?

"I liked Alice, she was okay, I went out a few times with her." Admittedly it had become awkward by the second date. Alice had been... very keen, she'd text Patsy every day, email her on the work line and got stroppy if Patsy hadn't replied immediately. Patsy had tried several times to create distance but Alice had clung on. Going so far as to leave a toothbrush in her bathroom after the third reluctantly made date.

"And then you slept with her cousin in the pub toilet and she sent you a steak knife through internal post." Patsy nodded her head distantly. The cousin had been a revelation. Pure filth was putting it nicely. She'd been hounded all evening in that pub by both women, the cousin seeming to find it funny to go for Alice's crush. Patsy hadn't been callous initially and politely avoided both of them as best she could. And then she'd gone to the toilet. 

Thank God for lack of cctv in rural towns.

She'd practically been mounted in the stalls and five pints in Patsy had just given up. The cousin had been pretty spectacular as it went. It had been almost a shame when Alice had come looking for her half way through... it had been a very sharp knife as she recalled.

"Which I graciously did not put in a complaint about." Patsy offered weakly. Trixie sighed in frustration but relaxed back slightly as though she felt her point had been made thoroughly.

"Well, stay away from Delia that's all I'll say. They're a nice pairing."

"Yes, you've already said that. Trixie, are you this protective of me when women show an interest my way?" Trixie scowled darkly.

"No. You're not the one who needs protection." Patsy abruptly changed the subject growing bored of having her sexual history brought up and inwardly thanking her stars she'd never told Trixie about her teenage jaunts into town. The blonde would probably dine out on it until the end of days.

"How are the baby plans going? Have you had any results back yet, still waiting for your period?" Trixie paused before allowing herself to be distracted, eyeing Patsy as though considering whether to allow the deflection before giving in. She heaved a heavy shrug and glanced at her handbag.

"Nothing yet. I got Cynthia to do a few blood tests the other day and I'm taking all the folic acid I can cope with... it's been six months and nothing.' She bit her lip, her thoughts turning inward. 'Maybe there's something wrong with me." She whispered and Patsy sighed, leaning forward to squeeze her friends hand comfortingly. They'd had this conversation a few times now.

"There's nothing wrong with either of you. It'll happen in its own time Trixie. You're both young and healthy sometimes it just takes a while. Are you still doing the home tests?" Trixie laughed a little thickly, her eyes overly bright.

"Doing them? I'm starting to forget what it feels like to pee in the bowl rather than a stick."

"What does Tom say?"

"Not a lot, he's a bit nervous about being a dad. You know his adoption was good but he worries he won't know how to be a father... He's been strange lately, I don't know, distant. He's working a lot, I think he's dissapointed it's not happened yet... Maybe he blames me." The last sentence was whispered again and Patsy squeezed Trixies hand tighter not really knowing what to say.

"I'm sure that's not true. You should just talk to him, he's probably thinking it's him and worried about the same things." Trixie worried at her lip withdrawing her hands delicately and twisting at her wedding ring.

"I've tried but... he's out a lot. Doing a lot at the school and Nonnatus." Patsy paused remembering the school and Tom... with mousy.

"Is everything okay between you two?" Trixie snapped back to attention her voice defensive.

"Yes of course. It's just a rocky patch, we'll get through it." Patsy backed off again knowing from experience Trixie could become cutting when she felt pigeon holed.

"Right."

They finished their cigarettes in silence, each busy with her own thoughts.

The sea sloshed on the shore far off and Patsys mind, no matter what she said to Trixie, fell back to the delightful Miss Busby and her... possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is Sundays update a day early because I'm an impatient fool.
> 
> Everyone enjoying it so far? The back stories coming up nicely but I think Delia needs a bit more air time. She'll be up next chapter and then she'll be pretty much a permanent fixture so hang in there guys.
> 
> Eagle eyed readers may have picked up that Chummy will be appearing soon. And we got a brief glimpse of J. Smythe too. 
> 
> Have a nice week and, I'm not beneath begging, put a comment on if you enjoy it. Writing takes time and as much as I love doing it feedback is the wages I crave. 
> 
> SB


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I know is that you're so nice...   
> You're the nicest thing I've seen.
> 
> Kate Nash. Nicest thing.

The smell of formaldehyde soaked bodies in the morning was one of the least welcome experiences of the job, Patsy was forced to conclude to herself dryly, as she stood in chilly silence. Thankfully for Patsy though she wasn't a rookie and she'd come prepared with a double shot espresso in a takeaway cup which was even now sending up laconic spirals from its plastic rim up to Patsys grateful nostrils. It was something positive to focus on within the morgues chrome confines at least.

It was Friday and Patsy had woken dimmed and very very late. The sun that had peeked happily through her curtains cheerfully informed how badly she'd over slept from the second she'd opened her eyes.

She'd only managed a single peice of toast the night before after splitting from Trixie. She'd chewed it tiredly, rinsed the plate of its crumbs, showered thoroughly and then collapsed naked in her bed. She'd been asleep before her head had even hit the pillow.

This morning however she'd woken with a ravenous hunger in her gut; a day and a half without anything substantial could do that to a person. Tea was not a good enough substitute for her these days apparently... She supposed that meant Helen was right and she was starting to grow up.

She'd inhaled two bowls of cereal in quick time and a packet of stale crisps she'd forgotten she had in the depths of her kitchen cupboard before pulling on her trashiest street clothes; baggy jeans, plain khaki t-shirt that had been washed so much it had thinned almost indecently and a light jacket with a helpful amount of inner pockets. It would not pay to advertise herself too much during her duties today.

She needed to shop this weekend, even church mice would fade with the contents of her pantry. Takeout tonight sounded wonderfully alluring... her stomach still grumbled telling her it was yet to be fully satisfied and as an after thought she shoved a protein bar left at the back of the fridge into her pocket.

Health in every bite was what the packaging promised. It would have to do.

She clipped her badge onto her belt trying to shake off the groggy sensation that her eyelids were stuck together, as she slid into her boots and hastily tied her laces. The clock in the kitchen told her she was now going to be late enough even Dyer would comment.

Luckily she could by bypass the station today. She had errands to run.

She'd dawdled once she'd got outside, not yet able to build motivation as she stopped at the petrol station for her coffee before hitting holiday traffic. She'd chain smoked in her jeep as the lines of cars baby stepped across the county.

Subsequently from all of this she had been held up at the morgues front desk.

The secretary with the dodgy drawn on eyebrows and strong perfume was new and after taking Patsy in for a few seconds over the rim of her rather unflattering spectacles had steadfastly refused to believe the scruffy woman stood before her was a detective despite Patsys badge. Rather sanctimoniously Patsy had been informed that there had been a mix up on the paperwork connected to Winnifred. The receptionist said Dyer was on the ticket and had no knowledge of any Mount so could not allow her entry.

Temper building and inwardly cursing all Hitler ridden receptionists across the nation Patsy had smiled painfully and sweetly asked the woman to call the station. Dyer hadn't been in yet, no one knew where he'd gone but Chopsticks had managed to track down DI Urusula who had shouted down the phone loud enough everyone in the reception waiting area had been able to hear individual words until the situation was hastily corrected. Patsy had forced herself not to look too smug as she sauntered into the bowels of the building past the womans desk.

The Toffs office was basement floor level where it was coolest. A sterile looking operating theatre filled one half of the sterile smelling corridor, the other half was filled with the waiting area for the dead. The Toffs office was in there. Patsy wondered if the woman really ate her lunch at her desk looking at the metal stacks of built in drawers.

She probably did.

The dead, as she'd cheerfully informed Patsy, were empty containers where souls had once lived. Nothing more and definitely not something to fear. The Toff had clearly felt this sentiment was positive somehow and Patsy had merely nodded trying not to show her deep uncertainty on the subject. Bodies always made her remember things she'd prefer not to.

The Toff was the county coroner and Toff wasn't her real name. She was actually called Camilla Fortescue-Cholmeley-Browne although she encouraged all newcomers to call her Chummy. Clearly even for the optimistic woman the name was too much of a mouthful.

To Patsys knowledge none of the cops actually called Chummy by her preferred name; she had become The Toff by popular consent. She took it fairly well too.

Chummy took everything well really. It was how she'd been raised to behave. She was so well bred that there were probably long winding tapestries attached tastefully to grand country mansions with her family crest and history weaved into the very fabric.

Chummy came from money, it was in every pore of her being and because of this fact she had a sort of free pass at being poor in that special way only observed in extremely rich people. That was to say that she enacted the behaviours of being poor from the other side so to speak.

She wore, for example, only well made, sturdy and above all classically understated clothing that most likely had cost a great amount to purchase but would last time infinitum. She owned exquisite jewellery from decades, possibly centuries past and therefore never had to buy anything knew. She had her names attached to deeds of houses that were even now rented out to people who paid her a monthly gold mine.

Thus money was saved and accrued afresh for future Fortescue-Cholmeley-Brownes.

Patsy might have disliked the woman for her privilege if she had displayed even an iota of backroom stuffiness or pomposity but Chummy simply didn't. She was polite to everyone and most importantly was terribly kind. She was also an impossibly tall and broad woman, one of the rare females taller than Patsy in fact. Like many big people she was quite self aware of how much she stuck out and therefore spent a great deal of energy attempting to make herself seem smaller by speaking quietly and allowing people to feel bigger somehow. This manifested itself in an almost pathologically perky and butter-side-up attitude to life. She was encouraging to anyone with a dream or hope and she was endlessly fascinated with the world around her.

At present she was reeling off information about Sister Winnifred at break neck speed. Patsy let the babble wash over her muzzy head like a brook over soft pebbles. Chummy was talking complex theoretical chemistry and Patsy doubted she could spell half the words churning through the air at this moment in time let alone comprehend them. She waited patiently for Chummy to talk herself out.

Patsy forced herself to remember that Chummy didn't get many regular visitors down here and therefore any face that appeared more than twice would inevitably find its owners name added to a Christmas card list. Patsy had even got a birthday card last year.

It had had a sad looking skeleton on the front wearing a party hat. Chummy had clearly found it hilarious. Her joy at lifes simplicity was infectious.

Patsy was charmed and oddly found that she couldn't help but enjoy the womans company. You couldn't help liking Chummy, not liking her would be akin to kicking the worlds biggest puppy. She smiled bracingly as Chummy gestured down at the gurney currently sticking out of the stainless steel drawer in front of them.

Winnifred was laying there. Ghostly pale with now livid bruises on her naked form only slightly covered by a white sheet.

Chummy had immediately informed Patsy that the bruises were caused post death. Patsy studied the face now cleaned of blood and sea rubbish.

Winnifred had been beautiful, slim and young. Chummy had combed her long hair so that the pinky mess of her wound wasn't so obvious. Patsy stared down at the closed eyes, took in the peaceful set to the thin lips. For a moment, Patsy could almost convince herself the nun might sit up; whole and alive.

Patsy shivered. No matter what Chummy said, dead people would always give her the creeps. She looked up and found that Chummy had stopped speaking and was watching Patsy expectantly. Patsy sighed.

"Do we know for certain how she died, what was the murder weapon?" Chummy blinked, torn from anecdotal hypotheses and then nodded grimly. She had a pair of blue gloves on and the latex contrasted harshly against Winnifreds red hair.

"Blunt Trauma to the back of the head. The wounds spacing and trajectory indicates she was standing at time of death and facing away from her attacker. If you look here;' Chummy delicately peeled away strands of hair so the deep hole in the victims skull showed prominently. 'The width and depth is consistent with a flat object, mosy likely wood. I found several chips where the force split the weapon slightly. The blow is downward facing; its high on the head which suggests our murderer is taller than average.'

Chummy sighed and glanced at Winnifreds face. 'There wasn't a struggle, no blood or skin under her nails to suggest she fought. The poor thing was caught unawares I think... Thank God she didn't suffer. I don't know how you brave lot do it day in day out seeing all this horror, I positively wept when I heard she was nun." Patsy looked up and scanned the antiseptic theatre and rows of drawers with bodies in.

Chummy worked here day in day out and thought the world outside was horrible.

"Chummy, have you got anything to help us work this out? What about her teeth, the crap she was wrapped up in? I need something to go on." Chummy seemed to pull herself together; no doubt she was descendent to ancestors who had charged into the fray at the drop of a hat. Steel edged her very bones.

"I'm sorry old bean,' Patsy grit her teeth as she always did whenever that particular endearment was used. She was not anyones bean anymore. 'The sea water killed off almost any forensics. Time of death is anything between twelve and twenty hours prior to being found, it's almost impossible to be any more accurate due to temperature and skin tone degradation from prolonged water exposure.

The teeth may be some help if only because they're terribly neat work. I'd say someone, I simply refuse to call them a professional, committed fine craftsmanship. They even abraded the gums afterwards to clear any marks on the soft tissue of the upper gums. Her fingerprints were burned away and the sacking she was wrapped in is hessian. Because of its size I'd hazard that it came from somewhere industrialised; a factory or a farm. Of course I sent it for further analysis along with the twine used to tie her but I'm not holding much hope; they're just too common an item to be localised to the source. They tied her jolly tight too, see where the skin has broken here and here". She indicated Winnifreds ankles and arms that bore purplish grooves.

Patsy swigged at her coffee tiredly. A proper job then: their killer obviously knew what they were doing. They'd stumped the police as much as they could... a shame they hadn't factored in the nuns pupils finding the body... A stroke of good fortune for the cops it seemed.

"What about blood tests, has it shown anything up?" Chummy shook her head trying to be serious and professional in the face of Patsys stony expression. The gloom would drive her nuts long term, she was a sunshine and roses woman. Patsy was winter.

"The drug screening came back negative for any drugs or alcohol."

"And what about sexual assault, she was naked under the sacking." Chummy looked down at the body, her voice finally dull.

"Thankfully not. No bruising or tearing around the genitals or buttocks. She was just murdered constable, nothing more."

Both women breathed out a little unsteadily. Patsy felt the odd relieving of tension as the information settled on her. She'd been a bit worried about that.

"We think she might have been pregnant, Dyer found a test in her bedroom. Can you confirm it?" Chummy blinked and Patsy knew she was overcoming her immediate response which was to defend the nuns honour. She was a regular church goer Patsy had heard.

"Chopsticks did mention it on the phone, yes. Blood tests will have to confirm it officially but I did a swipe and found no HCG traces. We'll have to wait to see if bloods reveal anything more but I don't think she was pregnant. Her autopsies scheduled for this afternoon. I'll send my findings to the station." Patsy swigged her coffee again and let her eyes track the other drawers further along the row.

"What about the the other cases, five at last count. Anything you can tell me there?" Chummy paused and then beamed as though Patsy had finally asked her a question she'd been waiting for.

"I have something I think you'll be fascinated to see Constable." Chummy strode to her desk excited and pulled open a drawer to fiddle inside for a moment. Patsy followed at a more leisurely pace not sure what the good doctor would think she might find interesting. Chummys awareness of others and their interests were hit and miss to say the least, her core belief that everyone shared her wide interests often caused more than a few awkward interactions.

"Here you are Patsy; Giardia duodenalis." Chummy had finished her fumbling and pulled her hand back from the drawer. It was not alone alas. Clutched in her massve right hand was a mason jar filled with brown scum and a sloshing light substance the colour of a pale ale which she deposited on the table with a flourish. Patsy squinted at it.

"I don't see anything." She said eventually feeling foolish but Chummy was nodding her head like a solar powered floppy toy.

"Stomach acid!' The posh woman may as well have been proclaiming to the world at large that she had found the cure to world peace. "From one of our OD cases. I flushed out his bowels for a little detective work of my own. These little beauties are invisible to the naked eye of course but its extremely interesting findings. Can you guess constable; it was mentioned in that book you borrowed last time." Chummy was watching Patsy, all hope and pep and Patsy floundered. She'd taken that book just to be polite. It was currently languishing in her bedside table. Never once looked through... Patsy went for a stab in the dark.

"It's related to the Welsh police." Chummy frowned and then laughed. Patsy relaxed.

"Very witty constable but no. It means that our victim recently came into contact with someone infected with this little blighter. Originally an eastern European infection, it's a parasitical lifeform that lives in the gut and cultivates for some time before causing enormous bouts of crippling diarrhoea. It might not help the case but the growth of parasites is a personal hobby of mine." Patsy forced her face to stay completely blank.

"How's your love life Chummy? Anyone taken your interest on the app yet?" For the love of God find men and get a new hobby woman Patsy internally shouted.

Chummy blushed and shrugged, coughing a little dryly. Patsy had forced her to join the site a few months ago.

"Er no. Nothing has piqued my interest as of yet... There's a gentleman who seems kind but..." She faltered off and Patsy watched feeling embarrassed.

"Kind? Kind's a good thing Chummy, has he asked you out yet?" Chummy looked down at her jar.

"No... Now, the OD cases. Clearly it was drug related but the blood tests are odd. No Opiates or barbiturates. I believe the drug of choice was a newcomer, synthetic most likely which makes it hard to isolate. The odd thing is that they were all relatively healthy despite regular drug use. No major organ failures and they would have been fairly desensitised to large quantities. I can only supose the new drug is stronger and they made a poor assumption on dosage."

Patsy quickly rattled through the names of her drug victims. Richard Hans or 'mad dick' as his associates called him; a paranoid schizophrenic with an almost physical personal hygiene problem. Janeen Rascal usually known as 'stargirl' to most of her customers, a twenty something prostitute riddled with most STIs. Frank Riddle, a sometimes postal worker who'd hit hard times after his mother died. Simon Hurst who'd played guitar in the town and lived on the streets for most of his short life. James 'Jimmy' Hill; a hopeless romantic who split his time between women and smoking anything that wasn't nailed down.

All dead. All gone and Patsy needed to find out why it was happening- And work out who'd killed Winnifred at the same time.

Patsy had read once that women were naturally able to multi task because of how their brains were built... Thus far she felt she had been short changed somehow. She couldn't even juggle for Christ sake!

She quietly thanked Chummy who had slid into thoughtfulness and made her way back up to fresh air feeling dissapointed but not beaten. There was still a few avenues left to her.

Her stomach gurgled warningly as she stepped into bright sunshine. Lunch would come first she decided. Then she'd visit her CHIS.

-

CHIS or confidential human intelligence source or snouts were criminals in the polices employ. Once upon a time all cops had been encouraged to cultivate their own snouts in the field. It helped to have a few ears a little lower to the ground than most after all.

These days they were regulated stringently by the department and technically everyone should be able to access them. This didn't really work in real life but as long as the paper work was done and the files were labelled well enough to pass an audit no one asked too many questions.

Unfortunately for Patsy most of her regular drug snouts were currently laying in Chummys morgue. That left only one who might be able to help.

Patsy parked a few miles away from Micks place. Her jeep was far too conspicuous and well known to keep her prescence low-key and for the sake of the children she was keen to avoid attracting unwanted attention onto the flat.

The nearest village was close to a little beach and made a fair trade selling tourist merchandise and teas in the coffee shops.

Patsy stopped off at the cash point first and retrieved the requisite money and then hesitated briefly before stepping into the closest fish and chips shop.

Some things were just part of the job.

The smell of ancient fried oil was almost physical as she stepped through the red and white plastic door cover. Supposedly the cover was there to keep flies out but as she stood before a counter, so thick with age encrusted grease the fat had created its own veneer, she spotted at least six buzzing about her head.

She succinctly ordered three fish and chips from the acne ridden youth behind the counter while trying not to let any of her body come into contact with the grimy surroundings.

The sour faced teenager, clearly wishing he was outside enjoying the summer sunshine, resentfully slapped three fish into the roiling bath of oil and returned to watching his phone avidly. Patsy read the decades old signs about pies until the food was ready breathing out her mouth.

Once everything was packaged in grease spotted paper and slung in a blank white carrier bag Patsy hurried out again. Sucking in clean air as the plastic rattled at her sides. The ever present need to feel clean bit deep.

Thank God for travel sized hand sanitiser.

Strolling towards Millers end she checked her phone. No texts awaited her but there was an email regarding the CCTV on the strip. There wasn't any. Shaking her head at small business owners need to keep costs down she turned her phone to do not disturb and pocketed it. Calls would make Mick jumpy and she wanted him fairly amenable to her today.

Mick Sheiks three bed council flat was set in a multi floored block. It was a mish mash looking eye sore on the landscape, juddering up from the center of a relatively rural village. Some of the tenants had actually bought their homes off the council a few years ago on the cheap and theirs were fairly obvious. The windows weren't new for one thing.

The flats were shabby from the outside and a regular police haunt. The majority of its tenants were addicts or prostitutes; sometimes both. Occasionally a new dealer would claim the flats as their land and there would be a pathetic turf war between the feuding power bases. It could get ugly too. Last year a kid had been stabbed outside the front doors for shifting sides. The stains were still visible if you knew where to look.

The rest of the neighbourhoods occupants, mostly elderly singles or young families bumming a living however they could, hated the council block and everyone in it. Complaints came in daily to the station over noisy music or fights. Social services had noted the block as a hot spot and a fair few of the kids were future Matties students even if they were too young to know it yet.

Patsy trudged up to the second floor, balancing the bag on her wrist as concrete steps flew before her feet to bring her to an equally concrete hallway. There were three red doors leading to three identical flats off the hall and a scooter with one wheel missing was lodged into the gaps between the bannister. Patsy vaguely recognised a cartoon character from kids TV. Someone had drawn a cock on the characters face.

The front door to Micks flat looked brand new and probably was. If it wasn't the police raiding him it was the less official and usually more aggressive drug groups. Mick pissed everyone off, ran up bills and had a big mouth.

But he knew everyone too. It was why he was still alive.

Patsy rapped her knuckles loudly on the glass pane and then waited calmly as sounds of shuffling feet and coughing filtered through the cheap wood.

Micks missus Allie poked her head round the door soon after, face suspicious. Her masacara (blue) was smudged around the cracked film of her eye lids. She had a fresh black eye that peeked out lividly besides her good one until she recognised Patsy and visibly relaxed.

Allie was twenty nine years old although life had made her look much older. Her stomach bulged heavily after having one too many kids that nowadays the social didn't let her keep any more. Allies babies were removed from day one from the hospital, as they were the easiest to adopt that way, but she still had them at alarming regularity. Her skin was stretched tightly across her skull and heavy black circles ringed her dull grey eyes. She smiled stupidly at Patsy. Patsy counted six and a half teeth.

"What are you doing here this time of day? You know he won't be up yet." Allie spoke with a lisp since a sharp punch a few years ago had made her bite off the end of her tongue. Fine spit sprayed out between them in a mist. Patsy grinned and passed over the bag of food. As she did so she spotted a few pairs of eyes looking through the gap in the door leading into the lounge.

The kids the social hadn't managed to take. Yet.

"For you and the kids. Anyway, he's just the admin, maybe I wanted to make sure you guys were alright first. He still in bed?" Patsy walked into the flats inner corridor without waiting to be asked. Allie never bothered with niceties and trying to introduce them confused the woman too much.

Her boots echoed loudly on the concrete within. No carpets. Mick had sold the last one and was waiting for the council to redo it for him. Allie shut the door quietly behind Patsy.

"He's tired, was out last night working." She sounded proud to say the words. Patsys gaze fell on the pile of lead resting in the corner that had almost certainly been stolen from someones roof. Work wasn't a traditional thing in this household. She stepped lightly into the kitchen feeling her boots stick to the linoleum as she crossed the threshold.

"So how are you guys doing? Hows Seppie? Did they say anything else about her ears?" Allie sucked her gums and shrugged but Patsy knew she'd appreciate the show of interest. No one bothered to talk to Allie much and gods knew it was a lonely life being Micks wife.

"She's deaf, what's more to say? I'm getting disability allowance for her now, social worker fixed it for me, but him in doors will probably get it off me." Patsy sighed and rested lightly against the kitchen cabinets.

Seppie was actually a little girl called September, lovingly named for the month of her birth. She was five, mixed raced and Mick sure as shit wasn't the dad but that didn't mean anything. Mick never cared much who got Allie pregnant these days as long as he got the money from the social for the kids she managed to bring home.

Patsy had been the first one to spot Seppie wasn't hearing properly a few years back on one of her visits. She'd hoped the revelation would mean the good doers of the world might take the child away from this place quicker but special needs kids were harder to place and so far Allie had clung on to her daughter. Supposedly, Allie was learning sign language to help Seppie but the nurserys seemed to be doing most of the work.

The kitchen was a mess of ash trays and dirty plates. Patsy knew Allies mum sometimes turned up and cleaned for her. Knew too that Allie tried her best but was woefully ill-equipped to care for herself let alone the kids. Patsy had tried to ask why Allie didn't try for better once after a few of the kids had been taken out after a police raid and Patsy had made the woman a cup of tea. Allie had looked at Patsy as though she was mad and shrugged in a way that said, far more eloquently than she could ever verbalise, that the world was a big enemy to fight against and Allie was only one tired woman.

The drugs she took recreationally were all possible reasons for Seppies hearing loss though no one wanted to say it. Patsy tried not to judge her too harshly.

'How about Fern? She doing alright in school and everything?" Allie snorted and pushed her dirty blonde fringe out of her eyes in exasperation.

"Ahh you know our Fern. The little genius, going to be a doctor she says.' Allie groaned theatrically and sounded weary as she began sifting through rubbish filled drawers. 'Course I want her to go far but she's aiming too high. I told her; you want to think about getting pub work if you're going to earn a wage. You'll end up pregnant with a nice boy hopefully not before long. Doctors are for better people than us." She was still searching through the drawers fruitlessly and Patsy gave in, reaching into her jacket pocket and proffering a fag. Allie grinned and snatched it quickly.

"You never know, Ferns a smart girl, she could go far." She'd go somewhere away from here Patsy knew. The girl was resolute, painfully shy and clever to boot. She'd make it out and if Patsy could help her she would. Patsy liked Fern. Fifteen going on a hundred and fifteen with enough nonce to know she needed to work hard to escape. Patsy hadn't seen her about for a few months, she was never home if she could help it.

"How about electricity, have you got enough on the meter?" Patsy waited patiently as Allies face clouded, already knowing the answer was no because the usual background hum of the television was absent.

"Nah, got nothing. Micks had it all off me, don't know what he's up to. There's something going on but you know he doesn't tell me nothing." Patsy slid forty quid onto the counter and smiled brightly as Allie shoved it into her bra. The one place Mick never bothered to search.

"What do you mean Al?" Allie frowned, still with one hand on her chest.

"I mean he's wiped out all the time. I know he is normally but it's a different high and it's cheap stuff he's taking. He looks sick, don't know what I'll do if he dies. Kids need a dad." Patsy kept her face neutral as she silently cringed.

Kids needed stability and dads who didn't smoke crack in the back bedroom. Kids needed to be loved mostly by people capable of it and Allie and Mick were less than capable of caring for plants let alone children.

"Right, well I'd better wake his highness up, you got the bag? Thanks." Patsy took the carrier bag that the food had come in and bunched it tightly in a fist. Allie was already turning to the fish and chips, her brain shutting off.

"They like chips, shame I've got no sauce." Was all she mumbled in response.

Patsy said nothing, left Allie to her faffing and stepped back into the hallway. The door to the lounge shut tightly with a faint snick as she did so and little high pitched voices carried through the flat as Patsy walked past.

Micks bedroom was at the end of the flat. The walls were yellow now from nicotine but had once been white and there were a few holes where someone had punched through the plaster.

The bedroom itself was disgusting. Clothes hid the floor and the smell of burned plastic, piss, vomit and damp were all vying for top dog position in the nasal symphony of life. Things probably related to bacteria formed in the primordial soup were growing in cups of coffee months old and in the midst of it all lay Mick snoring in the centre of his kingsized bed.

Lord of his Manor.

Mick was a skeletal looking man with a toast rack chest showing all of his ribs and cracked greying skin. He was of indeterminable age but every time Patsy saw him she was reminded of terminal patient she saw sometimes in the hospitals. He'd lost one leg above the knee so far to heroine after the veins had finally collapsed on him.

Patsy doubted he'd got more than two years left before she'd be signing off his death certificate. She eyed his juddering form as she edged into the room and laid out the bag onto the rooms only chair before sitting down gingerly. There were nasty looking black lines running down the back of his remaining leg.

Possibly, two years was being optimistic.

She sat for a few moments listening to his feeble snores before nudging the edge of the mattress with the toe of her boot.

The snores continued.

Patsy stared for a moment, considering her options, before reaching into her jacket for a fag. She lit it and blew a stream of blue smoke over the mans still sleeping body. She thought of Allies fresh black eye.

Then she kicked the mattress harder this time.

Mick woke with a jerk of limbs and a long cut off snort. His stump quivered disturbingly against the red of the duvet cover.

"Afternoon Michael." Patsy called calmly. Mick flinched and twisted his head to look round before groaning and burrowing his face into the bed clothes.

"Not bloody you again." Patsy watched him carefully as she took another drag. He had a bruise the shape of a boot imprint on his left shoulder blade. Blue and greeny in colour. Fresh.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't been expecting me Mick, you're not stupid. Five dead this fortnight, what have you heard?" Micks fingers curled around the bedding and his voice was muffled.

"Not natural. A man can't sleep soundly in his own bed at night."

"It's three in the afternoon, stop whining it's terribly unattractive." Mick spun over onto his back.

He wore only boxers, grey and stained at the crotch and a single holey ankle sock. Patsy blew out more smoke raising her eyebrow blandly.

"What do you care how I look, I heard you were a lady fucker." Patsy leaned back in her chair eyeing the man thoughtfully.

"It's still three though." Mick snorted and rubbed his face, the unshaved hairs on his cheek rustled.

"You bring money?" He asked sleepily through his hands and Patsy nodded distastefully.

"Food too because I enjoy being the food fairy. You're children will eat well because their daddys a nark. Now, these dead junkies."

"I don't know anything boss, ask Jimmy." Patsys fag had burnt down. She sighed and stubbed it out on a handy dish close by on a dresser top filled with blue mould that might once have been cheese on toast.

"Love to but he's one of my corpses. What's going on on the street? Is someone selling something new?" Mick was busy scratching his nose and his red bassett hound eyes seemed to laugh at Patsys over his spindly knuckles.

"You know I can't tell you anything; there's people who'd skin me alive if they knew I even let you up here." Patsy raised her eyebrows again. She could see each and every one of the mans chest muscles when he breathed. Mick didn't have skin to spare.

"Well I won't tell them if you don't Mick. But I'm not leaving until I get names. You know how it works; I come here, you give me the news and I don't arrest you." Mick sat up awkwardly, finally provoked.

"I haven't done anything!" Patsy sucked her teeth irritably.

"There's a four foot high pile of lead in the landing that tells me different and if I were to flip this mattress could you tell me honestly I wouldn't find anything?" Mick sank back down again hurriedly, as though he thought his weight might stop Patsy doing what she threatened, looking sulky.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't have names for you though so do what you want to me. I can't help you." Patsy closed her eyes tiredly.

"Mick, you know everyone; it's why you're still here. I want whoevers selling so spit it out there's a good lad."

"I told you; don't have anything. These boys don't tell you their names." Patsys ears pricked up.

"Which boys? Smiths or O'donnells crew?" Mick fumbled in the bedding and pulled out a half smoked spliff that he'd clearly left to burn out on the bed when he was high. Patsy tutted despite herself. Stupid man was going to burn this place down in the end.

"Neither of them; these are new blokes, foreign but serious bastards. Stab you out if you look at them funny kinda people." Patsy considered this, wondering who had given Mick his boot bruise.

"And these lot are selling new stuff? What, just like that? What are the other groups doing about it?" Mick sniffed and lit his joint airily.

"Nothing. That's the thing. No ones crossing them. Old O'donnell put the word out to leave them be. Course Smiths lads tried to give them a going over, they fight themselves if left long enough, but I heard they got destroyed in one night. This new lot owned Newcastle for a bit." Patsy folded her arms.

"There's no police reports about any of this." Mick shrugged disinterestedly.

"Well, you lot don't see anything do you and this new firm want the take over nice and quiet. I heard they cleaned out Newcastle in a week or so when they picked up there." Patsy frowned feeling a headache forming.

"And now Poplar, bit of a scene change, what are they up to?" Mick smiled, the first one so far. It wasn't a nice smile.

"Selling some heavy duty shit, synthetic by the taste, proper rot gut. Cheap too, Rafters got me some the other week but I sent it back with him.' He sniffed again and brushed his nose with his fingers. The digits were stained a deep brown with some yellow at the tips. 'I told him; that stuffs a killer. I've got kids, too much to live for." Patsy surveyed Mick in his dirty underwear smoking his weed and nodded wryly.

"Why's the stuff so cheap? If it's killing off the customers what do they gain?" She didn't expect Mick to reply and was mainly speaking out loud but Mick grumbled and shuffled his bum to drag his body along the edge of the bed.

"Told you, they're cleaning out. Get rid of the hangers on so they can move their stuff in; it's how they operate. We're near the sea aren't we? Bloody hell thought you guys were meant to be clever."

"Moving what exactly?" Mick shrugged.

"I don't know, they do everything I heard."

Everything. Well that was unhelpfully vague.

"Foreign blokes? Where are they from, what do they look like?"

"I don't know' Mick groaned sounding bored now. 'One foreigners like any foreigner to me; none of them know how to talk properly I know that. I've only seen a few; they're tanned with black hair. One had a tattoo on his wrist, sort of flag thing that was red with a bird that looked like it was on acid in black." Patsy rolled her eyes. A tattoo might once upon a time have been a useful descriptor. Nowadays every crook had sleeves of the things. Hell, so did most civilians.

"Right, where are they basing themselves then?" Billy sighed looking put upon.

"Ahh how do I know Mount? I just smoke my shit and keep myself to myself. I don't get told information like that." Patsy sighed and reached into her jacket, laying a few notes onto the drawer beside her. Mick watched it glumly.

"I still don't know for certain so don't be turning up wanting a refund if I'm wrong or anything." He warned still not looking away from the money.

"I didn't ask for a receipt did I Mick, just tell me." Mick rocked for a moment as though he needed a run up to spill his guts.

"Someone said they're settling in a big ruin; that's all I know." Patsy felt her blood cooling in her veins. A ruin?

"Right, anything else I need to know?" She got to her feet and the bag underneath her crackled angrily. Mick watched her before nodding slowly.

"One of them asked me about you." Patsy stopped fiddling with her jacket and looked at Mick in surprise.

"Me? What did they want to know?" Mick shrugged his voice holding the weakest of threats.

"Anything really. Someones interested in you Mount. Really interested; offering money for anything about you. You've pissed on someones cornflakes good and proper... I reckon you might not be visiting me that often again. If I were you girl, I'd go for a holiday somewhere nice and far away."

Patsy released her grip on her jacket. She didn't have to take this bullshit; stepping forward suddenly, she trapped Micks remaining foot under her boot and gripped the man by the throat. He weighed less than her by a long stretch and she let him splutter and choke for a minute around her fist. Bringing her face down to his level.

"And what did you tell them exactly Micko? I like my privacy see... People who don't respect that fact probably won't be in my good books and I'd so hate to hear that our friendship has come to an end." Mick was gasping, his leathery hands scrabbling at Patsys arms.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't." Patsy watched his blood shot eyes carefully and believed him. Mick wasn't smart enough to lie. She dropped him easily so that he fell onto his back on the soft mattress and stalked out the room. She heard him coughing loudly as the door slammed shut behind her.

Fuck! Patsy grasped her hand to stop it shaking. So she had a grubby little admirer.... Her lucky streak in life was truly the gift that kept on giving wasn't it.

She felt the itch in her feet that never really went away. The desire to run and run until everything bad faded. Until she wasn't her anymore.

She stood very still, fighting her lesser impulses, forcing the narrow strip of vision to become wider again.

The living room door opened up and a little head with a small thatch of black frizzy hair poked out. Patsy straightened as she took in Seppie standing in a nightie holding a plastic plate filled with battered cod. Her pudgy hand reached mechanically down to squish the fish between dirty fingers and bring it up to be forced through the tiny opening of her pink lips.

The two of them stared at one another for a moment and Patsy felt calm return. She didn't talk to Seppie much because their communications often left her with urge to drink herself into the ground. But Seppie didn't have all that many people in her life who could understand her language and Patsy wasn't capable of ignoring her.

She stepped forward hesitantly and, trying to feign cheer, signed.

**Hello curly. You eat fish?**

Curly was Seppies sign name, Patsy had thought it suited her better than September anyway when she'd first signed it to the kid. Seppie squinted up focusing hard on Patsys hands, still chewing slowly as she nodded.

 **Yes**.

Then, quite abruptly, Seppie bent to put the plate on the floor and wiped her oily palms down her dress with an air of decisiveness. Her hands hesitated as they drew words in the air. Patsy concentrated to pick them out.

 **You sad red**.

Patsy smiled and nodded.

 **Yes**.

Seppie licked her lips to gather the remaining fish.

**Mummy sad. You sad. Curly sad.**

Patsy watched the signs grow rigid as the girl tried to match her slim vocabulary to the world around her. Patsy smiled.

**I sad now, but not sad tomorrow. Why curly sad?**

Seppie sucked her lips thoughtfully.

**I want men go away. Men hurt mummy, hurt me.**

Patsy sagged, trapped by her inability to do anything. Even if she took the girl to the station and dragged out the on call social worker Seppie would still be dropped back here within hours. It wasn't a secret Allie got a hiding regularly. Patsy hated she couldn't stop the kids from seeing it though.

 **You tell glasses (social worker) they take you away**.

Patsy signed the words calmly but Seppie shook her head.

**I go home with you.**

Patsy sighed and got to her knees encasing the slim shoulders with her hands before releasing them to sign.

**You no live with me. I boring.**

Seppie stamped her foot and signed insistently.

 **You bring food. You good. I want go home with you**.

**No. Curly live here or go with glasses.**

Tears were forming in the girls eyes and Patsy felt like a shit. She couldn't save everyone... but she wanted to save Seppie, wanted to save Fern, wanted to save Allie and Mick and Val. Mostly though, right now, she wanted someone to save her.

**I talk to glasses. See what glasses does?**

Seppie shook her head again.

 **Brown men come. Scare me. Glasses not help**.

Patsy frowned and fought the urge to hug the girl, trailing a thumb down the girls dark forearm.

**Brown like you?**

Seppie shook her head.

 **No. Different brown. Men hurt mummy, I hide. I want go home with you**.

Patsy gave in and hugged the girl knowing how little it would help.

**I find home for you. I talk to glasses.**

The little girl squealed dissaprovingly, trying to grip the cuff of Patsys jacket as Patsy dragged herself back to her feet.

**No! I go home with you!**

Patsy shook her head.

**My home too little for big girl like you. I'm too little for big job.**

The girl trailed after Patsy like a shadow.

**Men hurt Flower (Fern). Men give flower stuff.**

Patsy paused as her heart sunk through the floorboards before asking;

**Flower hurt?**

Seppie gripped her nightie convulsively.

**No. Flower fight men. Flower make angry words at mummy. Mummy sad. Flower sad. I sad.**

Patsy chewed her lips.

**I talk to glasses. I fix.**

Seppie sniffed and shook her head looking too old for her young years.

**No one want me. Mummy no talk to me. I sign good. She don't talk. Flower out. You no take me home. I bad.**

Patsy shook her head hard so the girl would see it.

**No. You good. You best. I fix. Curly is good good girl. Curly is best girl.**

Seppie picked up her fish looking confused at why the adults in her life couldn't help her and watched Patsy owlishly as she made her escape to the front door. Patsy opened it slowly and lost the internal battle as she stepped outside; she looked back.

Seppie was already gone.

Patsy got to the ground floor before her temper flared and she kicked out at a metal bin. The lid fell off with a jolt and spun loudly round and round in ever decreasing circles on the concrete as Patsy fought the urge to kick out again.

Sometimes Patsy wished she'd chosen a different career so she wouldn't have to see that kind of crap. Sometimes she thought she could understand why alcoholics drank. Everything would be so much clearer through the bottom of a glass...

She picked her way back into the village morosely. The main road back to Poplar was a winding country lane with no other soul to see at this time of day and for once Patsy wished she wasn't alone with her thoughts.

She would ring the social worker on Monday she decided. Even if they couldn't do anything immediately all the evidence helped in the long run. Those children needed to get out and Allie needed someone much better than Patsy to teach her how to grow a spine.

The weather was a direct contrast to her mood as she strolled down the lane. The sky was a startling forget me not blue with no clouds to marr the suns heat. There were cows in the fields, calves stumbled close to their hides, noses grazing amongst the buttercups and short grass. The air smelled like salt and the horizon was hazy.

Who knew where the road would stop. Would it ever?

She smoked two cigarettes, pacing herself out to get rid of the top layer of agitation until a fine sheen of sweat started between her shoulder blades and her thighs burned.

A figure cropped up on the edge of sight. A lone shape struggling with something on the road side. Patsy narrowed her eyes as she drew closer picking out the details. Small brunette with something metal; probably a bike.

The features reminded her of someone but she didn't immediately recall until she was a few hundred yards away and by then it was too late not to say something. Of course; she'd have to see the woman when she was in her work clothes. Couldn't be when she'd made a bit of effort because that simply wasn't how Patsys luck ran.

Delia Busby was bending over a bike turned upside down, fiddling with the back tyre. A helmet was hanging limply by its straps from the peddle and her pretty chinos were muddy as though she'd skid onto the ground at some point.

Patsy hesitated only for a moment before clearing her throat noisily and stopping a few feet away.

The swaying backside froze and diminished from view as the teacher straightened. Something that Patsy couldn't help but feel was a bit of a shame as she neatly brought her line of sight up to eye level in time to meet Delias taken aback gaze.

"Can I- Oh, constable Mount." Delias straightened a bit more, her hands flicked to her hair reflexively and swiped away her hair from its rather helmet crushed mess.

"Bike trouble?" Patsy winced slightly at her voice and the stupid nervous wobble. She felt embarrassed at saying the obvious. Delia looked down at the bike too, her hands were dirty with oil and mud and shrugged lopsidedly.

"She's contrary, the back wheels got a slow puncture I think.' She pressed the tip of her index finger to the flat tyre in disgust. 'Didn't bring my puncture kit so I think it's a case of just taking her for a walk now."

"She? Your bike's a girl?"

"Woman I think...' Delia kicked the offending construction lightly, 'she's a mother of some sort I know that. This is the last time I try to be healthy." Patsy stepped closer and felt a tremor of sudden butterflies in her stomach she didn't quite know how to explain.

"Well, I'm walking the same way I think. Can I escort you and your lady friend as far as my jeep?" Delia looked up and smiled a little shyly.

"Are you allowed to do that... I mean, because of the case, isn't it fraternizing with the enemy or something?" Patsy snorted and swiped the helmet from the peddles, twirling it on her finger airily as though she truly was cool calm and collected. Delia watched the motion with bemusement.

"It is a sackable offence of course, they'll probably have me shot... but it's a nice day and maybe I feel like rebelling." Patsy winked feeling falsely brave. Delia smiled shyly and heaved the bike back onto two wheels.

"Are you usually a rebel Constable Mount?" She asked softly and Patsy grinned back wolfishly.

"Depends whose asking... and it's Patsy. I'm not actually on the clock at the minute." Delia watched her steadily and then began walking. For a little person she was pretty quick.

"I bet you are.' Delia mused already five paces ahead. 'Bet you were a nightmare as a teenager." Patsy laughed again pushing away a tiny bitter twinge.

Lady you have no idea...

"I might be offended; we've only spoken once and my characters already being maligned. What evidence are you basing your aspersions on exactly." Delia blushed.

"Nothing, just... you look a bit wild that's all." Patsy felt her own cheeks redden. Delia was biting her lip like she worried she'd said the wrong thing.

"Wild?' Patsy coughed, 'must be the hair. Makes me look angrier than I am." She'd tried to make a joke but Delia was looking thoughtfully at her feet.

"I don't think you look angry. Maybe wild isn't the right word... sort of smouldery." The butterflies in Patsys stomach had called their friends and started a disco somewhere behind her belly button region.

"You think I'm smouldery?" Patsy twitched crookedly. Delia nodded very fast and then abruptly changed the topic, her ears a little red.

"Timothy was in class today. Timothy Turner. He's very taken with you, telling everyone about the cool detective who gave him a ride in her police jeep." Patsy smiled, letting Delia control the conversation as she fell instinctively into step beside the Welsh woman.

"How is he? He found Winnifred, I hope it doesn't mess him up too much." Delia thought for a moment, the spokes of the bike clicked rhythmically as their shoulders brushed occasionally.

"He's a bright boy and his parents seem pretty sturdy stock, he'll be alright... He wants to be a detective now though." Patsy snorted.

"A fate worse than murder I grant you. I'll have to put him off that, he's too good for this job." Delia glanced at Patsy and their shoulders bumped again accidentally on purpose from Patsys end.

"Don't you like it?" Patsy pulled away again.

"What? No, I love it, but the hours are hard. Doesn't leave a lot of time for a social life... the uniforms a chick magent though." Not entirely sure why she said that

"Every cloud then." Delia sounded non commital but Patsy spotted the subtle up and down bob of her gaze.

"I heard you were a nurse before you were a teacher." Patsy finally managed to pull of smooth. Delia blinked in surprise.

"I- Yes I was. Who told you that? I haven't said much about it here." Patsy felt the metaphorical foot she'd just stuffed in her mouth choke her. Ahh the perils of asking about a friend of a friend is that you never knew what was common knowledge and what wasn't.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Trixie. My friend Trixie, I saw her yesterday and asked about you... for work reasons." She looked down to hide the blush.

Blushing Mount? A few years ago you'd have asked a girl outright and not cared if you were knocked back. There would always be someone else soon after. She's a woman; this is instinctive.

"Trixie Franklin? Toms Wife? I didn't know you knew each other... You asked her about me, why? Am I a suspect officer?" Delia sounded teasing but curious, the accent softened around her words and Patsy smiled hesitantly.

"No. No of course not... I just needed some background for the school. You're quite safe from me I promise." Unless you ask me to take that promise back. I hope you do.

"Oh... I see. I could hear the swing of the handcuffs for a moment Pats." Delia was tilting her head towards Patsy. She had a freckle on the edge of her ear.

And she says your name like it means something.

"Are you worried you've done something wrong?" Patsy slowed down and was gratified to see Delia did too without appearing to notice the fact.

"No... Perhaps I just couldn't stop myself picturing you with cuffs." Delia laughed at her own joke to make it clear she wasn't serious but Patsy smirked nonetheless.

Were they flirting? Please, please let them be flirting.

"I am handy with them." Ooh, she was good at cocky, cocky and false bravado. Busby needed to watch out if she wanted to play.

"I've no doubt." Delia raised her eyebrows, sweeping Patsy up and down more obviously now and Patsy wondered if she would be the subject of a Trixie enquiry at some point. She sincerely hoped Trixie wouldn't mention the knife in the post incident to Delia if this was the case.

"So why teaching? Why leave the glamorous world of nursing behind you?" Delia stared at Patsy for a moment before turning back to walk, her feet were slower now and Patsy shortened her strides to match the smaller woman. It felt uncomfortably natural.

"That's a bit personal isn't it." Delia didn't sound like she minded. Patsy didn't mind that Delia didn't mind...

"I suppose it is. I'm a nosy Parker deep down, though, suppose it goes with the job. You don't have to tell me if it's uncomfortable." Delia shook her head absentmindedly, her hair ruffling out softly at the movement.

"It's not awkward just not something anyone really asks me... I left nursing because of my accident. I had a traumatic head injury eight years ago. I was living in London and cars just weren't possible so I bought a bike to get around."

"Economical." Patsy didn't know what to say to that, she tried to covertly check the Welsh woman out. She didn't even have a limp, the visible skin wasn't marked.... She was pretty beautiful to look at actually.

Enough Patsy.

"Yeah it was good for a bit, nice to get some fresh air before shift but, well, cycling accidents are pretty common.' Delia was speaking quite matter of factly and Patsy nodded hastily to hide her distraction. 'I got hit by a taxi on my way to work one morning; not my fault, the driver was tired and pulled into the cycle lane, clipped the back wheel. I went flying and he ran over me. The after affects were... quite messy. There was some amnesia, not permanent thankfully. My mam thought I'd have to come home but I got better. Learning took a while, the head trauma meant I had to relearn pretty much everything that made me 'me'. Luckily for me neuro plasticity was on my side; I was only just twenty two so my recovery was relatively quick compared to others with similar injuries. I was in hospital for six months."

"That sounds horrendous." Patsy couldn't imagine laying in bed a stranger in her own body. It took a strong person to stay positive in light of things like that. Delia smiled faintly as though amused and Patsy instantly regretted not saying something better or clever. That's probably what everyone said to her when she told them.

"It wasn't great I'll admit but it got better. The shifts and work were too much for me once I got back to work in the end though. I... I get tired sometimes, more than I used to, but I'm working on it. Anyway I didn't want an admin role, stuck behind a desk tapping out spreadsheets and answering phones so I retrained as a teacher... The hours are great and if you ignore the politics it can be rewarding."

She's strong Patsy reflected. Delia Busby walked quite content beside her and Patsy wondered how much that cost her. She could feel admiration for Delia growing in her like a weed. To her surprise she realised she wanted to know this woman and not particularly for sex, Patsy liked her character.

"Must have been hard living in London when you couldn't work." Patsy pondered this out loud just to make Delia keep talking to her.

Clearly she'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm not an invalid!' Delia said it sharply, suddenly prickly, 'don't feel sorry for me. No one knows really around here and I've never been called in for issues with energy levels. I'm perfectly capable of living a normal life." Patsy raised her hands in surrender. Delia sounded as though she was talking to someone else, a past argument spilling out into the present.

"Okay, so what you're telling me is that it's your party and you can cry if you want to. Got it." Delia blinked for a moment and then looked away embarrassed.

"Sorry, that's not about you." Patsy shook her head unconcerned, she understood what it felt like to be underestimated.

"Someone trying to nurse maid you?" She asked softly and Delias hand tightened on her handle bars for a moment before she relaxed and blew out a breath shakily.

"No, not really... Jessie doesn't like me cycling, says I fell once I'll do it again. We argued this morning, she told me to get the bus. Sorry for snapping; I'm just being over sensitive. Ignore me, honestly." Patsy chewed her tongue.

"I don't want to ignore you... although I won't be pulling any chivalry from now on. You know; opening doors or moving chairs. Probably lose an eye. I've been told the Welsh can be a very cut throat race when riled." Delia stumbled before throwing back her head and laughing. An honest rumble of humour spilled out into the air and Patsy nearly mistepped suddenly feeling fifty foot tall for making that sound happen.

"Who told you that?" Delia was still laughing and Patsy grinned.

They'd stopped walking again, the sunshine bathed the road and them in a light golden hue while the leaves sighed in the hint of a breeze. It was a pretty snap shot in time.

Luckily, someone managed to get a picture, it just wasn't them.

"Oh, you hadn't heard it? Thought everyone knew that who knew anything about the Welsh." Delia stepped forward and placed a warm hand on Patsys forearm, her eyes very big as she looked up. The blue mischievously lit.

"And what else, oh all knowing embassador for British stereotypes, do they say about the Welsh?" Patsy almost didn't answer as she fell into Delias eyes. After a pause of a few seconds where Delia raised her eyebrows in expectation Patsy managed to croak out.

"Errr... sheep?" Delia snorted.

"Weak." She released Patsys arm and started walking again, whistling tunelessly. Patsy felt a bit like a puppy trailing after her.

"What happened in London then?" Delia turned to look back appraisingly before shrugging, the humour fading. Patsy hastened to catch up wanting to see Delias face properly.

"The insurance paid out quickly, didn't want the bloke to go to court when it was so obviously his fault. Jessie was a trainee back then and used my case for one of her final studies. When the case closed she asked me to be a silent partner in a firm she was starting up; it's how we met."

Patsy paused trying not to seem too interested in this nugget of information. She'd kept forgetting, slightly on purpose, during their walk that Delia was a taken woman. Already she felt a little gloomy at the prospect of the sunny moment turning into a memory.

"So the new business is half yours then." Delia smiled a tad ruefully.

"Not really, it's her baby but I suppose legally yes."

They walked a little further. The jeep was at the bottom of the hill, the metal of the roof glinting in the sunlight. Poplar stood out in the distance; a little toy village.

"And Poplar? Why leave London?" Patsy asked it absentmindedly and felt Delia jerk as though pulled from deep reverie.

"Hmm? Oh, Jessies a local girl, her mum and dad live in Hemsby and she wanted to be close to her family." Patsy frowned as the jeep came nearer. That didn't seem right somehow.

"And your family?"

Families stayed together didn't they? Patsy wasn't an expert by any means but mums, the good ones, usually wanted their kids close by. She cast a side long glance at Delia and felt a pang of longing. She'd bet money that Delias family were nice people; the mum baked maybe, dad read newspapers, they all probably did Christmas with a proper tree and crackers and rang once a week regular to check on their precious daughter.

Jealousy was a fickle beast. Patsy pushed the pangs away even as it grew in her head. It wasn't Delias fault the she'd been born lucky and Patsy hadn't.

"My mam understands, sort of. I think she always hoped I'd go home to Wales eventually but it's never really been on the cards for me." Patsy stopped at the jeep and played with her keys. Delia was doing that head tilt thing again.

"Wales has had a loss then." Patsy muttered the words feeling like a teenager crushing on an impossibly unobtainable older girl.

"Not really, sweet of you to say though. But then, you're hardly a local girl. An accent like that I assume you came from somewhere southern." Patsy blinked and then looked down at her feet.

She didn't sound local it was true. Then again, when you're raised by a psychopath with an Oxford education that'll do that to you.

"Something like that." She mumbled half heartedly.

They stalled for a moment, Delia was watching her with interest and Patsy wanted to change the subject, to say something captivating that would stick in the womans mind long after they parted.

Nothing sprang to mind.

"Do you want a lift?" She asked eventually, annoyed at the timid lilt she couldn't quite shake off.

Gods sake, be smooth Mount.

Delia smiled as though she'd been waiting for her to ask and nodded enthusiastically.

"Would you mind?"

"No. No I'll put the bike in the boot."

It was only as Patsy closed the trunk on the bikes punctured back wheel that it occurred to her that Delia was probably just doing this because she was tired... would have said yes to anyone.... or she was just being polite. Patsy couldn't decide which was worse somehow.

Patsy stood for a minute staring down at her boots and telling herself to stop it. Nothing was going to happen. Only desperate people turned a shared walk of convenience into the beginnings of something. Delia was just a passing ship and Patsy desperately needed to shag someone who didn't have a husband or significant other for once.

Val had a lot to answer for.

Delia was already in the passenger seat when Patsy clambered in and was looking about the cab in polite interest. Patsy cracked the window hoping the cigarette smell wasn't too strong, clicked on her seat belt and drummed her fingers on the wheel nervously.

Delia watched her, the eyes dark in the cars interior. She had lovely lips... sort of pouty-

Stop it.

Covering her discomfort Patsy cleared her throat loudly and did her best Leonardo dicaprio impression.

"Well miss... where too?" Delia met her eyes slowly and smiled a little disbelieving.

"To the stars?" Patsy laughed, enchanted that Delia had known the reply.

"I don't think I've got the diesel for that... Will Poplar do?" Delia looked at the road beyond and sighed resting her head against the chair and stretching her legs out in front of her contentedly like she'd done it a thousand times before.

"It will do."

Patsy started the engine.

Poplar wouldn't wait for them... And Delia had someone to get home to. Patsy just hoped this Jessie was as good as Trixie said she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour,
> 
> Another Sunday, another obsessive few hours rechecking this and worrying. There you go peeps. Told myself I wouldn't post until my first essay was done as a bit of motivation. Academic writing hurts my brain!
> 
> Still not sure if Chummy is as I want her but what can I say. Delia is now in the next few chapters although there will be some angst because... I AM angst
> 
> Side note: I haven't forgotten about DEDEs epilogue. Its half written but I've been swamped. I'll put it up soon.
> 
> Stay cool
> 
> SB x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wheel is come full circle, I am here.

Saturday dawned soft and inevitable.

Patsy spent a lazy morning cleaning her house. The rituals of opening and spreading the many bottles of detergents across every surface and the smell of heavy bleach were relaxing enough that she could let herself fall into her thoughts. Cheap hypnosis.

Her house wasn't all that large; one poky living room (beige) , one kitchen (the remnants of long spilled spirits still lingering sadly), one bathroom (dated and beige again) and one bedroom (really, there couldn't be too many versions of beige in a womans life). 

It occurred to her, as she hoovered around her long neglected sofa, that she really should decorate her home better. She recalled the emptiness of Winnifreds cell and wondered what anyone would find if they looked into her space. Would they know Patsy, the real person, from the items they bagged up?

Probably not.

She didn't really keep many possessions. The living room wall housed only one old pastel flower print that had come with the house and on the coffee table were two small photographs; one of her police graduate ceremony and one of her mother.

The first picture was Patsys favourite; it took centre stage on her table and comprised of her and Helen. The ceremonial uniform had been starched and itchy at the collar and she never really wore it now except for formal occasions with work but she'd been so proud of herself the day she'd first worn it. The day had been sunny and the candid moment had been taken as she strode across the road with Helen under her arm. Patsy had finally felt she'd accomplished something for herself.

The second picture was the only picture that she had of her mother. It was old and grainy, taken long before Patsy had ever been born. Her aunt had gifted it to her one year during a quick trip after asking why Patsy had nothing to show of her mother anywhere. 

There had been no cameras allowed in the commune, of course, and the grey faced woman of Patsys memory had long since fuzzed around the edges until just the sad essence of her life remained ingrained in the past. The happy stranger in the photograph could have been anyone really.

Sometimes, when melancholy set in, Patsy would stare at the image; her mother was eighteen at best in the photograph. She would try and find herself in the face. Just look for some feature that she could anchor herself to.

She never could. 

Elizabeth Mount was square jawed with murky brown hooded eyes and broad shoulders. The mouth was small and the lips thin. The hair was wiry and dark. Even the heights were disjointed, no doubt if Elizabeth Mount had lived to see her daughter grown Patsy would have dwarfed her. Chastity, Patsys younger sister, had been the one to take after their mother. The two of them had been closer for it too; Patsy the endless interloper in other peoples lives. 

Elizabeth had been as kind as she could to her eldest daughter considering who Patsy really took after she supposed but the sting of dissapointment hadn't ever really dissipated fully. After Chas had her 'accident' the relationship had become even more strained between surviving daughter and mother, the already sparse conversations becoming more sporadic until Patsy was simply left to fend for herself in the commune.

No ones child.

Patsy finished the chores and dumped all the products in the cupboard under the sink. After dressing in the first thing she picked up she ventured out into Poplar town. The shops there were still scattered with early holiday makers willing to pay three quid for a pint of milk and Patsy passed them by without entering into anywhere. The local supermarket was much less full because it stood a few miles down the road and she hurriedly piled into her trolley enough stuff to feed herself for a month before scooting to the checkout. 

The front was glassy and looked out onto the car park. Across the street was a few more essential shops; a tiny bank, a Halfords that mostly stocked boat and bike stuff and a hobby type shop.

Patsy paid for her food absentmindedly as she peered through the window at the opposite street. An idea grew steadily into a distant possibility as she wheeled her trolley to the jeep and began unloading bags into the boot. Stupid. She wrestled with her own thoughts... trying to stop the sudden fancy from taking root. 

It was a bad idea.

Once done she paused and looked down at herself reflectively; she was wearing decent jeans for once, a relatively new top and her shoes were clean. She paused at the trolley station weighing her keys in her hand idly as she worried at her lip.

A car horns repeated honking from the main road made her jolt and look up feeling absurdly like she'd been caught dribbling or something. Over the embankment she spotted the same red sports car she'd seen a few days ago. The suit woman was there again, this time mouthing something angrily towards a tiny car she'd just cut up. 

Patsy squinted at the face as some long banked embers smoked their warning signal. It was like she recognised something in the womans bearing but couldn't pin it down. Before Patsy could work it out the suit was already speeding off shaking a fist at the tiny ford with the white and red L plate tacked onto the bumper. 

Patsy rolled her eyes from the scene and turned back to the store front ahead of her, sucking in a breath.

Patsy walked across the road and slipped into the shop. She was less than ten minutes before she was back at her jeep tucking something small and black into her pocket.

Decision made then.

\--

Delias house was posh. It had a pebbled driveway and flowering shrubs in the borders. Patsy hadn't really taken many details in as she'd dropped the Welsh woman off the day before but in the mid day sun there was hardly anyone about and she could idle at the curb a little further away from the house as she egged herself up to make the final leap into the fire.

The present- or creepy stalker gift, lay on the passenger seat beside her. What if Delia thought she was a creep for this? What if she took it to be polite and then went back to school and gossiped about the sad act cop who turned up at her house on a Saturday apropos of absolutely nothing...Or, even worse, what if her damn girlfriend answered the door and Patsy had to make small talk to explain how she had just thought...

Urgh!

Patsy smoked two ciggerettes in quick succession as she swung on her pendulum of self doubt. Nice people did this sort of thing... didn't they? Isn't this what that community policework shit plastered on the posters was all about? She was just a concerned observer, that was allowed wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Patsy blew out a final jet of blue smoke and dumped the butt through the gap in the window to die out in the gutter before reaching to grab the gift and stepped down onto the pavement. She felt a clenching in her gut as she did so, completely aware of how much of an idiot this made her.

Her feet felt as though they were laced with lead as she trudged up the street to the corner. Delias front room had its curtains open, polished floors and a glass dining table peeked through from the happy little life within.

Patsy swallowed as she inched closer to the shiny brown door with its gold plated knocker and shiny number plate. Patsy gazed at the shininess of it all and felt intimidated by the clear cut facts of the situation. She didn't fit in to this sort of world; Micks place, Matties, work, that was her niche. Not here. 

The gift weighed heavily in her hand like a burning brand.

Stupid.

Patsy turned away, her feet quicker as she walked towards the satisfying direction of the jeep... And then the front door opened, just as she neared the corner of the drive and a soft surprised voice called.

'Officer- Patsy!"

Patsys foot hovered a few inches from the ground as her stomach clenched. She turned around slowly to see Delia standing in the doorway, resting her head against the frame, arms crossed loosely as she smiled towards Patsy. Patsys mouth felt far too dry as she took the woman in.

Delia looked hot. Like date hot. Black dress, cute heels and fluffy hair hot. Patsy tried not to gawp as she walked slowly back to the front door feeling scruffy; a skid mark that's turned up at the front of the nice peoples house. 

"I was in the neighbourhood... There was a...' She floundered for a moment before inspiration struck. 'Mugging a few streets away; old lady in a... knife fight... with another old lady. She stole her mobility scooter and told everyone at bingo her hair wasn't naturally curled." She was garbling loudly and too fast and probably couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried. Delias eyebrows raised above her adorable fringe in silent amusement.

"A knife fight? Two old women were involved in a mugging... and a knife fight?" Patsys hand twitched nervously as she rubbed at her neck feeling like a complete idiot and knew Delia didn't believe a word she'd said.

"Yeah, menopause. Apparently it's a silent time bomb. Mabel and Dorothy advise HRT on tap." Delia laughed and lent forward, Patsy tried not to look at how this pushed together Delias chest invitingly.

"HRT? Here was me thinking you might just have popped around to see me. Now you tell me you're fighting grannies." Patsy sagged feeling that the best thing to do would be move onto a more pertinent subject pronto.

"I bought you something from a place- not in a creepy way.' She felt compelled to qualify this fact immediately and Delias smile merely became more amused. 'I was in there anyway and it was on sale, on a stand by the tills and the money went to charity... for blind paraplegic puppies owned by handless nuns who make wheelchairs for burns victims and one of the puppies was there and it was looking at me with its sad little sightless eyes and-" It was almost a relief when Delia cut her off.

"You babble' Delia had dimples in her cheeks and they bracketed her mouth as she swaggered the extra step so they were toe to toe on her front drive. 'Do you always babble when you're nervous or just after you buy presents for women and sidestep into fighting two old age pensioners?" Patsy felt tongue tied.

"It's... They weren't actually fighting... or real. Here.' Patsy lifted her arm stiffly to proffer the little black box. 'So this is my gift." She finished lamely. Delia took the thing and peered down with interest as she unclipped the little plastic clasps and flipped it open to reveal the metallic contents.

"You bought me a puncture repair kit." Delia sounded a little touched as she tapped the box gently. Patsy decided to take this as a good sign and allowed her heart to slow down.

"It's pocket sized so you can keep it in your handbag in case of another road side incident... So you don't have to get the bus." Delia looked up, her blue eyes very blue against black mascara. 

"That's- Well, you just keep saving me don't you." Patsy flushed and shook her head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears.

"I just thought you could use it." 

"And blind puppies made you." Delias cocked head really wasn't a fair mannerism. Patsy felt somehow the woman wasn't entirely real; too nice.

"Blind puppies and handless nuns." She finished hoarsely and Delias eyes crinkled, her dimples shone out and Patsy was a goner.

"How exactly would they make wheelchairs without hands?" Patsy paused before shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Their feet and faith?" Delia laughed and turned to look back at her open door before asking the question that both of them were wondering.

"Do you want to come in?" Patsy eyed the door too, the sunny house and roads yet untravelled beckoned as they always did at moments like this but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing something wrong.

"Err... Have I interrupted something, you look dressed up." Delia looked down at herself rather pointlessly in Patsys opinion. No one made that much effort not to be aware of how good they looked.

"Jessie called me to say we we're having a date this afternoon, so far she's late and I'd say you're pretty good company. So, maybe one cup of coffee?" Delia was worrying at her bottom lip and Patsy couldn't have said no even if she'd wanted to.

"Yeah, okay." 

They walked a little awkwardly into the house. Neither sure who should go first which caused a fair amount of fumbling on the step before Patsy stepped back and waved Delia through, trying desperately to master her nerves.

Nerves were a new thing. Probably part of being a grown up and needing regular meals Patsy reflected dully.

They strolled through the short hallway together into a modern kitchen. The cupboards were a creamy yellow and the room dissected by one of those fancy breakfast bars only people too time poor, money rich could afford. Patsy went where she was directed and sat at one of the stools watching Delia faff about boiling the kettle. There was a mobile phone in front of Patsy on the work surface where Delia had obviously left it to answer the door.

"I've only got instant. Is that alright?" Delia paused at her task, already half scooping brown powder into two mugs. Patsy lent forward on her elbows smiling and nodding.

"Yeah that's fine, the guys at the station just serve tar really so anythings better than that." 

Delia seemed to be a messy worker; coffee sprayed out onto the counter and milk somehow managed to splash out of the mugs. When she turned victoriously with their steaming drinks there was a smudge of brown on the edge of her hand. It shouldn't be a cute thing really but Patsy couldn't see it any other way at the minute. She took the cup as it was offered and took an experimental swig. It was sweet, Delia had put sugar in it without asking.

"So, I never asked anything about you yesterday.' Delia sounded nervous too, a little shy." I'm sorry about that, I was so self absorbed. Since you asked me though, it got me thinking and... I was wondering, why did you become a detective?" Delia was watching her carefully like she was a bird that had flown in and taken residence. Patsy squirmed, slightly disliking not being the questioner for once.

"Straight to the point aren't you." She hedged and Delia rubbed her fingers together a little sheepishly.

"Well, I can't let my Welsh stereotypes down can I? And anyway, as soon as I got in yesterday I realised I hadn't asked you anything about yourself really, we got side tracked onto me and... I wanted to know." 

Patsy took a breath looking down and drew patterns on the ceramic with her index finger distractedly; not entirely sure how much to say. Her demeanour tended to waylay too much curiosity from others but she didn't want to lie per se to Delia. In the end she plumped for vague but honest.

"I just wanted to be one. They keep people safe and there was... I met one when I was a kid and it stuck to me; I wanted to help people like they did." There was a fire and I wasn't there. I was somewhere else and they pulled me out. A cop pulled me out and told me I was safe and meant it. 

"Like stranded bikers?" Patsy blinked confusedly as she returned from the past. She nodded her head quickly.

"Exactly like stranded bikers." Delia pushed her tongue between her teeth and lent her elbows on the bar holding her mug in both hands.

"Well, thank you for saving me Patsy... I feel very cared for." Patsys foot rotated against the metal bar of her stool feeling shy under the womans scrutiny.

"S'alright. You're easy to save." She muttered and felt Delia leaned even more forward to place her warm hand on top of Patsys for a moment. Patsy stared down at the small palm. Her own hand was bigger; it peeked out beneath Delias.

The phone between them buzzed unexpectedly and vibrated a little way along the faux stone worktop as a text popped up on the screen. Delia blinked and reached for it with the hand that had been covering Patsys giving a little embarrassed duck of her head as she released it. Her eyes moved quickly as she read the message, small lines around her eyes appearing as she flicked off the screen and replaced the phone face down on the bar a little too forcefully.

"That's Jessie. My hot dates been postponed until six.' She seemed to diminish as she said it and Patsy felt an unsurprisingly large amount of dislike for Jessie surge inside her.

"More fool Jessie then." Patsy said quietly and Delia looked away unable to meet Patsys eye all of a sudden.

"It's work, she's busy, doesn't want the business to fail. I don't blame her for wanting to be a success." Patsy nodded vaguely and Delia seemed to sense her skepticism as she turned to look at her guest again. 'Jessies a good person." Patsy paused and nodded again knowing all too well that Delia having to tell her Jessie wasn't a dick probably meant the complete opposite.

They drank their drinks in silence, the camaraderie from moments before gone.

"I've got to go.' Patsy said eventually in her breeziest voice as she plonked down the mug lightly. 'I need to get changed." Delia seemed to be hiding her dissapointment as she straightened.

"Of course, you have plans tonight? A date or something I guess." She didn't sound particularly cheerful now and Patsy hesitated.

"Sort of, big birthday celebration." Delia inclined her head but the warmth was ebbing away.

"Right, someone special?" Again, Patsy felt as though she was doing this all wrong and shrugged.

"Yes, I bought tickets to see this stupid musical, my friend loves them." Delia smiled a little ruefully.

"So, you save damsels in distress with cut price bicycle ware and take friends to musicals... You sure you're real?" Patsy patted her pockets dramatically.

"As real as a heart attack." Delia pursed her lips.

"She's lucky. She gets her own knight in shining armour."

They were at the door and Patsy didn't really know what to say to make this parting more friendly. She wasn't all that good at farewells in any way, shape or form so this was a challenge she was ill prepared for. She settled for patting Delias shoulder which seemed to send electrical pulses up her arm when the Welshwoman looked up and their eyes met.

In movies this would be a pretty good first kiss. Girl gets girl, end scene cue sunsets and credits.

Instead Patsy found herself back at her jeep a few minutes later with the faintest snick in her memory to tell her Delia had gone back inside. To prepare for her date? Patsy really had no idea.

She managed to pull away and got out to the top of the street before she had to emergency stop when that pathetic red sports car rolled round the corner going far too fast. Irritated, but not really about the crap driving of snotty business women, Patsy tapped her horn and gestured angrily.

The woman in the red car didn't even bother to look at her, just sped back the way Patsy had come. Patsy shook her head to dismiss the anger and started off again. She did have a hot date tonight after all.

\--

Helens house was a forty minute drive away from Poplar and the area, though not as coastal, was much nicer than Patsys. There was front and back gardens, a garage, Helen even did Christmas lights in December. 

She was greeted at the door by Helen who, true to Patsys demands, was wearing a nice dress. The pearls in her ears and at her throat shone against the brown skin and her white teeth could be individually counted as she smiled at Patsy. She smelt of home as Patsy bent to press her face down to Helens smooth cheek. 

"I got you a present and a card." Patsy murmured. Helen looked her up and down appraisingly, her smile indulgent.

"I forgive you for putting my real age on the card then." Patsy smiled and patted her jeans pocket where she'd put a sticky bow on the seam.

"You have to unwrap it." It was a dare and a stupid joke, Helen merely rolled her eyes and reached into the pocket to pull out a little wrapped box. Patsy reached into her bag and retrieved Helens card. Helen shook her head amused.

"Every year, would it kill you to simply give it to me?" Patsy laughed and slung a careless arm over Helens shoulder.

"And miss my annual grope? Never, go on, open it." Helen did so, peeling away the neat paper to reveal a box and inside the box;

"A fit necklace?" Patsy nodded.

"It counts heart rate, pulse, steps, sleep cycle, everything. I thought since the milestone age was upon you that you would want to start focusing on your health and don't worry I'll link it up to your phone so you can check your vitals and everything."

Helen had never been a stick but a few years ago she'd stopped obsessing about weight and appearance. Her stubby shoots of hair and growing mid line worried Patsy. Helen frowned sourly.

"Vitals? Why do we have the NHS or calenders when I have you to make me feel ancient." Patsy grinned, not at all taking the line seriously and they walked into the house arm in arm.

They spent half an hour chatting about Matties. There was a new teacher trying to implement a behavioural model Helen disagreed with; 'too punitive, they'll just rebel more and then we'll be mopping up the results.' Patsy spoke quickly about her case and Trixie, the two women were fairly fond of one another, when she was struck by memory. Delving into her bag she passed over Phyllis's letter. It was still sealed although its confinement had crinkled the envelope somewhat.

Immediately Helens demeanour changed, became more wooden and she accepted the missive between thumb and forefinger like it was a dead mouse and deposited it onto the coffee table without reading the front.

Patsy was ready with a quick follow up question but Helen, who knew her far too well, merely picked up her bag and strode slowly to the door.

"Which show are you taking me to Pats? If there's strippers then I'll regret my wardrobe choice." Patsy had meant to draw out the conversation some; answers were her currency after all but let it go for the minute. It was Helens birthday and Patsy would be told what she needed to know eventually. Helen was honest to a fault at times. That's why Patsy loved her so much.

The musical was exactly what Patsy had feared; lots of singing about things rather than doing anything helpful. The suspiciously chirpy and fresh faced hero sang a large range of hearty songs with dangerous phrases like 'this is fate" peppered throughout the weak plot. A phrase which, in Patsys opinion, meant there was nothing for it but a sizeable dose of chloroform. The two hours passed by in a blur of strobe lighting and high kicking dancers until the cast were making their final bows and the room filled with applause. Helen clapped loudly along with everyone else and, as Patsy watched, she beamed to her companion and Patsy deemed any amount of musicals a good enough charge towards making Helen happen.

Life was good.

Night had fallen good and proper as they strode away from the theatre amidst a chattering crowd. Helen seemed uncharacteristically quiet as they drove the short distance to the restaurant; allowing Patsy to order for her and staring down at her hands contemplating who knew what.

Patsy tried to make tired conversation but it became clear that Helen wasn't listening, her gaze fixed into the red of her wine. Patsy decided not to push her too much.

The restaurant was nice; all glass and chrome with white linen. The food was old favourites dressed up to seem new, the starters came out in a beaten tray a la Alcatraz style that in some circles meant chic but Patsy disliked because it made the food cold. Helen picked at her food and Patsy watched her feeling disheartened. So much for birthday frivolity. She ordered another drink hoping it might shake off the cloud that seemed to be drifting over them.

The mood of their table wasn't really a good representation of the rest of the clientele though; there were quite a few dates peppered around the joint and Patsy eyed them all. A nervy looking guy was sweating through his jacket while his date watched another couple further along furtively. There was a pair of girls on the opposite side of the room. Patsy squinted at them; a brunette with an arm casually slung across the table to a blonde. The back of the brunettes head looked familiar. She wore a white shirt with a grey jacket slung over the chair back. The blonde was laughing raucously and Patsy turned back to Helen feeling slightly jealous.

Helen still hadn't finished her starter; pricking the mushrooms with the prongs of her fork looking pensive. Patsy sighed and reached to squeeze Helens hand.

"You're not having much fun are you? Did I choose wrong?" Helen looked at her sadly before shaking her head.

"No. You didn't choose wrong. You have wonderful taste and you've tried so hard to make my birthday special. It's me; I've been a little out of sorts." Helen trailed off looking shockingly vulnerable. Patsy blinked non plussed to find Helen not completely certain of everything and released her hand.

"Shall I take you home? You can tell me what's wrong and we can talk it through. Is it work? Something you haven't told me?" 

An image of an angry student lashing out haunted her mind. Helen wasn't young any more and the kids used knives these days, Patsy lived in near constant fear of receiving a call one day to say Helen had been seriously injured. Rather selfishly she hoped Helen would take a full admin role even though she knew Helen loved working with the children. She'd done her time on the front line now.

Helen faltered for a moment before capitulating and diving into her handbag to dump forty pounds on the table.

"I think that's good idea sweetheart." Patsy stood hurriedly and proffered her hand to help Helen up. Helen waved the hand away with a wry smile.

"I'm not that old yet Patience." She scolded lightly before taking Patsys hand and walking them both out onto the street.

The drive home was tense although Patsy couldn't work out why. They pulled up and Helen waited while Patsy strode around the car and opened the door for her, shaking her head at Patsys uncrushable need to be obsequious in regards to her.

The living room was as warm and welcoming as ever and Patsy sat down on the sofa. Helen hesitated at the door before sitting beside Patsy and picking up the envelope on the coffee table. She twirled it in her hands idly not looking at Patsy.

"It's not work, is it?" Patsy asked eventually and Helen took a deep breath before shaking her head. 

No.

"I lied to you about Phyllis. She wasn't a correspondence." 

"Right." Patsy didn't bother to sound surprised and Helen cocked her head smiling sadly.

"You suspected? I never was able to lie to you very well, was I?" Patsy had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed as their eyes met.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Helen sighed and picked at her cuticles absentmindedly.

"There's not a great deal to say... we were friends who became more and then it all stopped. I haven't heard from her in some twenty years. We have avoided one another I'm afraid to say. I've been a terrible coward." Patsy reached across the table to grasp Helens hand. The skin felt cold.

"Well she wants to change that by the look of things." Helen nodded doubtfully like a child seeking reassurance.

"Yes, she does... And I'm afraid of that.' Helen gave an embarrassed laugh. 'I am a fifty year old woman and I'm afraid to speak to an old lover- Patience, I've been thinking about this a great deal over the last few days... I don't want that dilemma to be yours twenty something years from now. I want you to let someone love you. You deserve that and it's high time I saw you settle down." Patsy shivered at the force of Helens belief in her.

"What happened between you two?" Helen gave a watery chuckle and dabbed at her eyes.

"I was unkind. It was the eighties, I was a black lesbian; the attitudes towards me and anyone I was affiliated to went without explanation. Phyllis said she didn't care but I was angry. An idealist... I wanted to see everything at once and I was hurtful and wrong and cruel. I found nothing that held me like her for quite some time and then, of course, I found you." She inclined her head politely and Patsy straightened.

"Did you break her heart?" Helens cheeks crinkled and the subsequent transitory lines around her eyes were bitter mockeries for humour.

"I broke two. Hers and my own. Phyllis was The One for me you see. Now, I'm afraid she's become a dream or regret... there are so many debts in life we never realise we must pay for until it's far too late.' She trailed away before pinning Patsy with a determined eye. 'You need to listen to me Patience." Patsy groaned out loud as she released Helens hand, feeling the weight of Helens projected angst settling on her shoulders. 

All she wanted was a nice evening out and now she was being given pearls of wisdom spoon fed through someone elses tangled history.

"I don't know how to do what you're asking me to do. I'm not worth that to anyone but you." The truth was painful to admit and she knew Helen would tell her she was wrong. It didn't change how Patsy saw things though.

"You silly girl. You are worth so much more than you believe yourself to be. I'm telling you to acquire whatever worth you feel necessary at speed." Patsy leaned back in her seat, shaking her head at Helens inability to see the complications of her proposal.

"You can't force that sort of thing Helen." Helen sagged and pressed her lips together in mute frustration.

"No... but you can stop the things that could prevent it." 

The rooms temperature seemed to drop a few hundred degrees. The accusation was mild enough and Helen didn't shout. Helen never needed to shout at Patsy.

"I'm not doing anything." Patsy felt suddenly abrupt and cornered. They didn't talk about this sort of thing. Helen was moving goal posts and Patsy didn't like it.

"Patience you have to stop dating women who can never love you back." Blood painted Patsys cheeks red as she became fourteen again, caught in a bar with a random woman.

"I'm old enough to know that Helen. Hard though it may be to understand you have to let me work out things in my own time. This isn't something you can just... pin me to the classroom floor about you know."

"And how much time do you need Patience?' Helen intoned passively. 'How many years will it take for you to let people in, to forgive yourself for a childs actions?" Patsy wasn't aware of herself getting to her feet, Helens face moved away as she dragged in needed distance.

"More time than you think apparently! I don't know what's everyones problem. I'm fine, I'm as happy as I'm going to get and I'm fine with that. You can't turn all of this onto me because you're scared to call an old flame. It's not my fault you were a bitch to Phyllis." 

I'm fine. If she said it enough it might become true eventually.

Helens face was calm as she surveyed Patsy but that didn't mean anything. When she was really angry her calm was the calm of icebergs seven thousand metres deep floating before a boat.

"I was a bitch, you're completely right of course. I was young and stupid and I loved her very much and very badly... I'm not afraid to admit these facts but this isn't about me; I look at you and I see all the potential you deny yourself over fears that you could let go of if you simply trusted more. Is it such a bad thing for me to want you to let someone touch you more than skin deep?" Patsy felt betrayed somehow. Helen was pushing more than usual and Patsy didn't want to hear it.

"I think, as birthdays go, this has felt more like a funeral Helen. You sure know how to throw a party." Patsy sounded raspy and Helen rubbed her fingers against her temples in frustration.

"You are my daughter. You might not have my blood, you might not see it that way but to me that's what you are Patience. I want you to be happy, that's all I'll ever want." Patsy fidgeted from one foot to the other wanting an exit.

"I know that... you know I... I'm going to go." She felt tongue tied and awkward, unable to formulate an appropriate response. She felt the same way of course, wanted it to be as easy to answer as Helen made it seem... she just didn't know how to say it without feeling foolish.

"And will it be back to the bars for you?" Helen asked wearily and Patsy felt the stubbornness flailing in her trying to take hold.

"Maybe. Maybe tonight it will be." She bit out the words and watched wretchedly as the dissapointment settled over Helens dark features.

"Be kind to yourself sweetheart." 

Patsy froze at the familiar words, knowing Helen was letting her go in the hope that she would come back and sagged. Patsy did not want to make Helen an enemy. Stiffly, she walked back to the table and wrapped Helen in a quick but tight hug.

"Phyllis would be a lucky woman to have you." She whispered softly into the small shell of Helens ear before releasing her and walking slowly to the door.

"You are not the person you think you are. You are not him." Helen called quietly as Patsy reached the hallway and Patsy felt her limbs trying to lock down.

Helen was wrong, Patsy thought angrily, the proof of why looked back at her in the mirror every day. 

She closed the front door quietly and walked up to her jeep in the velvet quiet of the night. Without a sound she opened the door and slid into the drivers seat staring sightlessly through the inky blackness of the glass for a moment... thinking about what she'd said. Already regretting their fight, leaving, not saying the right things.

Would Helen really be that sad if Patsy didn't come back? Would anyone?

Vals face as she left Patsy night after night swam into view and was followed by more faces. Old and young alike and then- always; her mothers grey skinned pallor, her empty drugged eyes as the smoke choked her.

Helen was the mother Patsy had chosen, no arguments could be made against that fact, but Patsy had had another once. Her real mother lay mouldering in the ground beneath a grave Patsy never visited. There wasn't much point. They hadn't been able to identify Elizabeths remains from the others anyway.

So suddenly that it would have made passers by jump she began to punch the steering wheel. The horn blurred angrily breaking the night as her fists slammed against the leather and her knees crashed into the flimsy plastic board above the pedals. Something screeched through her teeth, something animal, something that meant pain in any language.

Stupid... 

She could feel an ache forming behind her eyes and willed herself not to cry. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Looking up to the mirror she met her own reflection and felt the revulsion surge. The hatefully blue eyes, the bone structure; fucking everything about her face. Sure, it was a beautiful face, she'd been told it enough to know that she was beautiful at least but she would give anything to be someone else, someone simpler. 

A few curtains were twitching in Helens street but Helens living room didn't stir, the glow from the house remained muted by the heavy blinds. Helen wouldn't come out and get her after that... Probably wouldn't refuse her if she turned back though.

Patsy still had a room in that house. Her mothers home... but she didn't want familial comforts now. She wanted oblivion and that required drink, lots and lots of drink and someone soft to hide inside for a few hours.

Patsy turned over the engine decisively. These things, at least, she understood how to get quickly.

\--

The strip in Norfolk was much nicer than Poplars... well, maybe not nice per se. Bigger. It was bigger, the lights were brighter and the crowds were better.

Patsy parked down a side street and strolled casually to the flashing beacon like a terminally predisposed fly; desperate for the burn.

The bustle of roudy drinkers jostled her, the shouts and cat calls and whistles washed over her like a warm blanket. The stench of stale sweat, alcohol and ciggerettes were like a time capsule; she'd done this all before.

"Is it such a bad thing for me to want you to let someone touch you more than skin deep?"

Fuck! 

Fuck Helen, fuck Trixie, fuck everyone for their judgement. Patsy didn't want to be the cut out card girl guide everyone wanted her to be. She wanted to be left alone to be twisted and dark... didn't she?

Fuck.

The first bar was full to capacity with a long line extending out from the entrance. Young teens huddled in groups jostled and flirted with each other. Patsy eyed the closest one mildly, five women wearing enough makeup to sink a boots no7 counter and just about enough fabric between them to make one decent dress in a pinch. She moved on without stopping until she came to a more tame looking bar further up.

This one was desperately trying to be chic with exposed brick and unvarnished wood. The effect gave the impression that the workman had left early and the owners couldn't afford any new ones but despite this seemed to be doing a steady trade.

Patsy nodded at the two doormen. Well, door people. There was a distinctly butch woman next to the giant of a man beside the entrance. The rather intimidating sight was made less so because Patsy knew them both. Chloe might as well be a bloke with the shaved head and wardrobe sized shoulders; Patsy had taken her home a few years ago and the two of them exchanged knowing looks as Patsy walked into the bar.

It was too early for Chloe to be an option tonight Patsy reflected. A shame really, she was pretty good last time even if they'd both been paralytic and a bit sloppy.

The bars insides, ignoring the ascetics, was like any bar; full of stale beer smell and people with lowered inhibitions. Patsy avoided them when she was on shift because drunk people were annoying. Tonight though; she intended to become a drunk person and therefore zigzagged her way to the long wall length bar. 

She waited patiently for her order to be taken, staring around the room and casing out likely suspects. Nights like these anyones label meant nothing, most people were like spaghetti anyway; straight until wet.

She didn't have to look far before she caught a pretty blondes eye a few groups away. Patsy handed over the money for her beer and inclined her head to the blonde who raised her eyebrows in response. Which was promising. 

Patsy managed three steps towards the blonde before something caught her eye, a flash of invisible pull she couldn't explain. At the other end of the bar a guy was standing close to a short brunette. Delia.

Patsy didn't know how she knew it was Delia and decided not to dwell on what that might mean exactly. The guy was tall and broad and backing Delia up to the bar. Patsy crossed the dance floor in less than ten strides all the while keeping her eye on the pair, enjoying one of the perks that came from being a tall woman.

Delia was resting her head against the wall, her arms up in an entreaty against the world to leave her be and Patsy narrowed her eyes in the dim light as the guy moved forward. 

You are way too close to her my friend.

By the time he had gotten closer Patsy was there, walking in from behind, feeling too much like an avenging angel even if she didn't deserve it. Without giving herself time to question whether this was at all appropriate she slung both arms around Delias waist like they belonged there and pulled her safely back on shaky feet to stand flush against her front.

Delia felt burny hot pressing against Patsys thin shirt and her foot stamped heavily on Patsys... but she didn't pull away either. Her head lolled slightly and, for reasons entirely of her own, she pressed a dry lipped kiss to Patsys neck clumsily. Patsy ignored it for the moment to stare out Delias would be suitor who was blinking stupidly at them both.

"I'm late babe, sorry about that. Who's your friend?" Delia didn't stumble as Patsys voice drifted over her, there had been a terrible moment when Patsy had worried she thought she was her girlfriend, but Delia just twisted more to hang her arms over Patsys shoulder and continued to press kisses to Patsys neck.

Not concerned apparently.

"You could have said you were a-" The man began sulkily.

"Virgo?" Patsy supplied dryly over Delias head. Delia chuckled and reached down to Patsys waist and lower... for a moment Patsy felt a twitch of concern as warm hands fumbled at her hips and then dived into her front pocket. She could pick out individual finger joints against her thigh through the jeans as Delia plucked free her warrant card and waved it the wrong way around towards the guy.

"She's a cop you know.' Delia giggled and pressed herself closer to Patsy, 'she likes musicals too... Singing songbird." Jesus, Patsy tightened her grip as the slur in Delias voice became apparent. The guy reddened as Patsy gently took back her card from Delias limp fingers and glared more angrily at him. Anyone trying for someone this pissed wasn't worth the shirt on their back.

"Thanks for keeping my girl company mate." You can go now. 

Delia was humming against her skin distractingly and Patsy felt the thrum of it working its vibrations through her as the man backed away, beer churning in his hand.

"Am I your girl? Always wanted someone to say that to me... do you know, you've got to mean it though."

"You've been drinking." Patsy couldn't prevent the softening as she voiced the completely obvious state of things. This woman was beautiful even half cut. Delia chewed her top lip as she squinted up at Patsy.

"I've been waiting for someone to come and save me. Are you it?" Patsy stepped back as Delia stepped impossibly closer, nearly toppling them both.

"Not in the traditional sense. Why are you on your own?" Delia scowled and pressed another kiss to Patsys cheek.

"Jessie had some work to do. Probably doing it as we speak. Take me home." Patsy blinked at the authoritive tone, the wanting press of Delia against her.

"How did you get here?" Delia sighed irritably as though Patsy wasn't playing the right game.

"Jessie drove... then she drove off again... constable, do you think I'm pretty?" Patsy startled and looked down at Delia who's eyes were darting everywhere, her thoughts clearly flying about like so many shards of glass. 

Patsy hadn't been correct it seemed. Delia wasn't simply drunk. Delia was very, very drunk. 

Too drunk to be asking to sleep with Patsy and terribly vulnerable here on her own.

"Yes. I do. But you should call Jessie and get her to take you home Deels. You're wasted." Delia giggled and thumbed Patsys collar clumsily.

"Deels? Dee-lio,' She snorted limply as she repeated her name before the face slackened into a burst of sadness. "Jessie won't answer, she's busy. Busy busy bee... And she didn't rescue me, you did. I'm your girl, you said that didn't you, so take me home." Her hand had snaked back to Patsys hips and Patsy glanced around the bar. The guy had gone but the press of bodies everywhere made the air hot and sticky. Her plans faltered as she took in the weight of Delia in her arms.

She'd take the woman home and leave. Drunk was fine but this drunk wasn't. Patsy was a lot of things, ask anyone, but a true dickhead wasn't one of them. She hissed unexpectedly as Delia lifted one side of her shirt and pressed down on the soft skin of her stomach.

Time to go.

"How are you at walking?" Patsy asked dubiously and Delia smirked before pushing away and shifting her hips with each precarious step as she waltzed through the press of bodies. Patsy stared at the small womans back as it dissappeared from view, her mouth suddenly dry again.

Take her home and then leave. 

She told herself this on repeat as she hastened to follow Delia into the night, pushing away the unwanted twitchings in her belly. This was so not the time.

Delia was a little less handsy when the cool night air hit her, swaying alarmingly as the two of them crossed the threshold with Chloe and Co. As Patsy closed in Delia bent over and vomited into the gutter. 

Patsy didn't give much thought to her next move; just lent down and peeled back the brunettes damp hair until she'd emptied her stomach as much as possible. Whatever she'd been drinking had been colourful at least; the visible splatters Patsy could identify were a veritable rainbow.

Once the main show seemed to have abated Patsy helped Delia stand up straight again. She smelled truly awful now and her makeup was dripping down her sweaty face, eyes screwed tight shut to block out the strobe lighting still flashing from within the club. Somehow, Patsy still thought she looked pretty. 

Which was a truly bizarre realisation.

Delia wrapped a shaky arm around Patsys waist and the two of them made slow progress to the jeep letting the chatter and wolf whistles blow over their heads. Patsy couldn't help but become increasingly aware of the warmth against her side... How Delia felt pretty perfect tucked under her arm and, even though it probably made her a lecherous bastard, she couldn't stop herself from letting her thumb rub little circles on Delias exposed shoulder. 

The skin was soft there, giving way to the gentlest of pressure and under the booze was an earthy smell that seemed to be just Delia.

Once in the jeep Delias equilibrium had returned enough that she was able to clamber into the passenger seat with minimal support. By the time Patsy had strode around the car and got in, Delia had managed to rally enough to have her phone in her hand. Patsy watched as Delias thumb tapped fruitlessly on the key pad warily. Everyone knew not to drunk dial, it was never a good idea. Period.

"What are you doing?" 

Delia looked up blearily as though she'd forgotten she wasn't alone and when she took in Patsy watching her face split into a pumpkin grin.

"Constable hottie- When did you get here?" Patsy paused before gently taking the phone from Delias unresisting hands. 

"I'm here to take you home. You've had a bit to drink Delia." Delia stared for a moment before blinking slowly.

"Will you put me to bed?" Patsy squeezed her legs together firmly and tried not to let any part of her consider the soft voice or it's enticing query.

"I don't think we need to go that far. Just door service tonight miss Busby." 

Delia scowled.

"Delia... Deels... D-Deelio doo dilly. S' my name." Patsy nodded half heartedly and started the engine hoping the purr of the motor might send the woman to sleep.

She might as well have hoped for snow in August.

They got to the first set of traffic lights before Delia leaned over the gear stick to rub Patsys thigh. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a blatant opening in a completely physical conversation. Again with the hot hands; this woman would make terrible pastry. 

Patsy kept her own suddenly sweaty palms steady on the safe zone of the wheel as she turned down a dimly lit residential street that led to a handy A route that wouldn't be too busy this time of night.

"I think I'm drunk." Delia muttered eventually, squeezing Patsys leg with an experimental inquisiteness that made Patsys stomach flip. Patsy bit her tongue as Delia brought the rest of her body closer and pressed her other hand to touch the back of her neck.

"You seem to be pretty mobile though." Patsy bit out tersely. There wasn't any street lights on the A road and behind them the flashing of a front bulb bobbed up and down as a car followed behind.

"You had a date tonight... I had a date tonight... I wanted it to be you, don't tell anyone." Delia clearly thought she was whispering. Perhaps it might have been a whisper if they'd been in a helicopter hanger, the confines of the jeep made the words bounce and echo though.

"Mine wasn't a date. Yours though... Jessie left you?" Delia blew her sweaty fringe up and rolled her eyes.

"She does that. Goes to work... all hours.' Delia released her hand to sit back against the leather seat, her voice wobbling. 'I think she's having an affair. Don't tell anyone... She's-"

"Not good enough for you." Patsy ventured and Delia recoiled, slapping her hands feebly back onto Patsys knee.

"She works hard... best I'm ever going to get she says... I don't think... Don't tell anyone." Patsy sighed and put her foot onto the pedal harder, fuck speed limits right now. 

"Think you've got your facts wrong there sweetheart." Delias hands were wandering up to the seam of Patsys jeans as she swayed with the car. Patsy hoped she wouldn't vomit in the car, there was only one decent car wash in Poplar and everyone would hear about it if Madge the old cash taker found out. And then Trixie would kill her.

"I've never had a one night stand before." Delias thoughts were drifting off course again and that clever hand was pressing harder. Patsy scooted her bum as far into her seat as she could to prevent any chance of her hips shifting closer for more friction.

This wasn't exactly what she'd planned for the night, but then again, it wasn't a million miles away from it either.

"Well firstly, this isn't a one night stand and second, I've had hundreds; the novelty wears out quickly I promise you." Delia paused trying desperately to focus.

"I'm glad you saved me." Patsy felt the hand press infinitesimally harder and her hips give up the pretence, grinding against their compression. Delia smiled her victory and ran her tongue across her teeth.

"I can feel you through these, these clothes dressed in jeans-" 

"Actually they're just jeans." 

"Do you fancy me back... this isn't a one night sta-" 

She passed out. 

Patsy swerved for a moment as Delias unexpected weight crashed down onto her arm before pushing the now unconscious woman back to her seat, panting at the effort to maintain equilibrium on the road.

The rest of the drive was pretty uneventful after that.

She parked on Delias abandoned driveway half an hour later. Delia was snoring like a bear with her face propped against the glass of Patsys window. 

Patsy gave herself a few minutes quiet contemplation watching the woman before pulling free her keys and getting out. Delia fell into her arms as the passenger door opened, still managing to snore somehow, cradled in Patsys arms. Whatever she'd drunk Patsy wanted three, right now, as she carried the unconscious woman to her front door before placing her to a sitting position beside it and fishing around in Delias handbag for house keys.

After trying four keys from the ring the lock popped open and Patsy picked Delia up and hoisted her into the house. The kitchen was up ahead but Patsy took a sharp right and kicked open a door with the toe of her shoe, dragging Delias increasingly dead weight into a modern living room. She deposited her cargo on a sofa.

Delia flopped like a landed fish into the giving fabric. Patsy caught her breath as she glanced around the room. Lots of pebbles and candles about the place and a fair few pictures on the wall. Patsy hesitated only for a second before leaving Delia to snoop.

There were a few childhood pictures, an unmistakable Delia standing in front of her parents with a gap in her teeth. Another of Delia on a slide. Near the TV was a picture of Delia and another woman who had to be Jessie. Their cheeks were pressed together tightly wearing woolen hats with snow in the background. Patsy looked at it for a long time feeling numb while Delia snored loudly in the background.

She wasn't looking at Delia though...

It was always terribly awkward when she could put a name to a face... And other body parts. Patsy sighed and returned her attention to the happy couple in the picture again. Well, shit. This was going to get really complicated.

A cars loud, sporty engine spurted somewhere close by and the click clacking of heels on gravel drifted through to filter into Patsys world.

The front door opened and Patsy turned slowly to face the music...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, its a few days late.... Many many apologies for that. I've got an ear infection and essays.... And my neighbours chicks just hatched and I sort of want to raise ducks now... 
> 
> Anyhoo, enjoy people
> 
> SB x


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was born in a thunder storm,   
> I grew up overnight.   
> I played alone,   
> I play on my own.   
> I survived.
> 
> Sia. Alive.

Patsy hadn't lied to Delia when she said she'd had hundreds of one night stands. Her track record was spotty enough to occasionally veer into scarlet woman territory but, though she didn't exactly start conversations with it, she also tried not to deny anything when actively questioned. Denial implied shame and she refused to feel shameful about her actions. Trixie and Helen thoroughly dissaproved of the whole notion it had to be said but Patsy was on a sort of philosophical fence whenever the subject cropped up.

A hundred odd women all spaced out neatly were akin to a couple sleeping together a hundred times. It was basic maths. As long as no one was hurt or confusion occurred and they were both legal and safe what was the harm? 

And it was safe. The ability to walk away was her private safety blanket... until recently anyway. It didn't lead to anyone demanding anything she couldn't give. She owed no one anything but... the problem was, you were never supposed to meet a one night stand after the occasion. It should be done with minimal effort expended and most importantly you didn't ask questions, didn't fact find...

Jessie hadn't gone by Jessie when they'd met a year ago in a dark pub the other side of Norfolk. She'd called herself Jenny as Patsy recalled, had bought Patsy a cheap drink and then they'd gone to a hotel... And now this was here and real and Patsy knew the facts she'd never bothered to ask. 

Was standing smack bang in the centre of it in fact. One year give or take... So Delia had been somewhere waiting for Jessie while they'd... and Patsy had...

Delia gave an alarmingly loud snore as keys were slammed to the stairs with a tinkling thump. Shoes were deposited in unequal jolts as heels met wood and then muffled feet padded inevitably to the living room door.

Patsy straightened her spine in preparation as a posh voice asked.

"What the hell are you doing in my house!"

Patsy had liked her accent a year ago. Odd that she really didn't right now.

Patsy turned on one heel slowly. Swapping a smiling picture of the woman for a much less impressed version standing in the doorway.

Jessie was shorter than Patsy, although that wasn't unusual. She had neatly cut brown hair in one of those expensive and arty bobs. Her makeup was impeccable even at this late hour and she was attractive in a 'command and conquer' sort of way.

She was still wearing the suit she'd worn in the restaurant Patsy had been to with Helen. She'd cut her hair since their roll about too but it was definitely the same woman. Patsy had an eye for faces when they weren't hidden behind sunglasses or cars. The memory of the laughing date at the restaurant flew across her mind and she allowed her body to relax slightly as she grinned rather cockily at the now named Jessie.

Game on then.

Jessie stepped warily into the room, glancing at Delia with ill concealed distaste.

"Is she alright?" The question was aimed lazily and Patsy felt her fist twitch.

"Officer Mount.' She pulled out her card and waved it quickly by way of explanation, watching the clever eyes track the movement. 'Your... partner was very drunk and I thought it best to bring her home."

Jessie arched her eyebrows.

"Drive home services? Well, you wouldn't get that sort of service in London. Are you collecting brownie points for this; do they give you a badge?" Jessies voice was a study in condescension. They could put her face under the word in a dictionary to help visual learners understand what a straight up bitch looked like. 

"A badge?' Patsy put her hands in her pockets, rocking slowly, 'that's not a bad idea; I'll mention it next department meeting."

Jessie took a step closer to the sofa and peeled back Delias fringe before walking back to her original spot. Apparently satisfied Delia wasn't dying.

"Well.... You've done a great job. Thank you but you can go now.' She gave a dry false cough that might be hiding amusement, 'Officer." 

Patsy felt her lips curl into a smile composed of a large amount of teeth. Jessie clearly hadn't recognised her... which meant one night stands probably weren't all that uncommon an occurance for her either. Delia snorted again and both women turned to survey the sleeping Welshwoman.

"She seemed upset. Apparently, you left her there on her own... Perhaps you should be a bit more careful next time." 

Jessies head lifted and her eyes grew cool as Patsys weak admonition hit her.

She'd looked better in dark lighting, here she looked more brooding. She'd been a shit lay too as Patsy recalled; a bit selfish.

"I'm sure you have somewhere to be officer... it's why we pay our taxes isn't it." 

Patsy took a step forward and extended out her hand for a shake. Jessie considered it for a moment before reaching out looking a tiny bit impatient.

Jessie had gone for a strong handshake and Patsy wanted to laugh as the smaller hand tried to crush hers. She could break this womans wrist if she wanted to. She squeezed a shade tighter and saw Jessies lips tighten.

"You're right. I'm busy most days... Never too busy to see a nice girl to her home though." 

Jessie snorted, still locked in the handshake, the tips of her fingers were turning a nice plum red.

"I could call the police for assault if you continue." She said lightly and Patsy released the hand with a wry grin.

"Do that. Let them know I said hello, the girl on the front knows me pretty well... speaking of girls, Jenny, who were you meeting tonight? Delia said business but..."

Jessie was wiping her hand against her front as though it was contaminated but froze at the name and inclined her head, her eyebrows creasing together.

Delia did it so much better.

"I don't see how that's any of your business. Now leave... And my name is Jessica." 

Patsy nodded pressing her lips together and took a step forward until they were side to side.

"No... I think I'm going to keep calling you Jenny. You have a nice evening Jenny."

Something like recognition flared in Jessies face as Patsy strode to the door and she stuttered.

"Wait-" But Patsy was already in the hall, her hand on the door, whistling airily as she stepped into the night.

It had started raining and fine misty water was drawing swirling patterns into the air. Jessies sports car was in the road; red like a target. Patsy twiddled her car key in her hand and weighed the sharp edge between thumb and forefinger before sighing and letting it go. 

She didn't need to get done for criminal damage on top of everything and the bitch was a lawyer type Delia had said. 

With regret she passed the ridiculous vehicle and got into her own making sure she didn't hesitate or show any break in her picture of ease as she turned the car on and drove slowly from the street.

It was only when she pulled far enough to be out of sight she allowed herself to feel the anxiety grip her. 

Worst. Evening... Maybe not ever, there had been a fair few she'd have swapped for this one but still... for a good length of time. She patted her pocket absentmindedly wanting a cigarette and groaned with full sincerity as she tapped the empty packet.

So far she'd managed not to be drunk, not have sex, piss off Helen on her birthday and now she couldn't smoke. Being a grown up wasn't all it was cracked up to be. 

She twitched her fingers gently on the steering wheel as she circled the road leading into Poplar. There was a 24 hour off licence before the main arcade strip, she'd stop off and get fags and booze. She consoled herself with the saying of how two out of three wasn't bad even as her groin twitched as blood circulated back to a brain that didn't want it all that much.

The off licence was like a million others. Small, claustrophobically filled with enough sugar and starchy badness to send even the fittest person into a diabetic coma and sticky linoleum. Sticks of rock in unnaturally bright shades filled a rack beside the till. Patsy grumbled her order before walking to a fridge and deciding on two bottles of drain cleaner whiskey plonked them down loudly onto the counter. 

Walking outside with her stash tucked securely under her arm she stopped, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke burned and healed the fractured feelings. 

The rain hadn't let up in her absence and the air felt clammy, sweat built on the back of her neck as she stood smoking her cigarette, letting the blue smoke curl around her head. There wasn't a great deal of light pollution here and she looked up wanting something familiar. The stars winked at her, told her nothing had changed.

And yet... 

Something background and non tangible had changed around her. She could feel it in the stiffening hairs on her arms and gave a cursory sweep of her surroundings noting the change in night time textures. Something flashed pink at ankle height as it detached itself from thicker shadow and flitted across the road towards an alley.

Patsy frowned as she walked to her jeep and opened the car door to deposit her stuff, staring at the place where the innocent light had vanished. The frown deepened as more shadows followed the first. The sound of shuffling feet on tarmac drifted over to her.

Something wasn't right.

Patsy wasn't psychic, she didn't purposefully see things that weren't there... but she was a cop and some things were honed into a person after a while watching people act out human cruelties on a daily basis. She looked down at her drinks a little sadly before slamming the door shut and walking to the boot. There was a blanket, a first aid kit and a torch with a huge face tucked neatly behind nets on the car walls... She contemplated them all briefly before grabbing the torch by its hefty handle and walking dejectedly towards the alley.

Patsy let the light flood the narrow space as she advanced, shining the torch directly at the scene. She was being reckless she knew; walking into an unknown situation on her own but she wanted to be reckless. There was too much stuff swimming around inside her at the minute and she didn't want to deal with any of it.

Which was a good thing for others.

She'd been right it seemed; a girl was standing with her back to the wall while four men crowded round her. They did not look like they planned on informing her about the good word of Jehovah. At the injection of light there was an immediate relaxation of stances and a general 'what? Something to be concerned about? Definitely not' attitude from the tableu. In the animal world; specifically birds, there would be a lot of feather smoothing going on right about now.

"Well... well... well.' Patsy swung the beam from one guilty face to the next and paused as she recognised the girls features. 'What do we have here then?" 

The guys were young but not local, their faces were too off with eastern European flavours around the eyes and hair. They all looked at one another in silent conference, seemingly trying to figure out what to do next. They didn't look all that bright so Patsy possibly should have brought a book and a folding chair with her; it looked like hard work from her end. Eventually, an unfortunately facial haired youth decided to play spokesman.

"There's no trouble here." He had a feeble baby beard growing in around his jaw and lips but the stubby hairs reminded Patsy of pubes. She arched her eyebrows and pulled out her warrant card. All eyes fell to it. The girl; Fern, scowled.

"Strangest creature is trouble. I'm a detective so naturally trouble is my trade.' She laughed humorlously  
and took an experimental step forward, the boys stepped back. 'I don't mind telling you I go just about everywhere trying to find the damn thing, turn over every stone but do you know something? Whenever I think I've found it; everyone tells me it's not there anymore. Amazing world we live in huh?" 

The boys had edged back enough that Patsy could reach out and grasp Ferns scrawny shoulder with space between them all, still keeping track of the guys with the torch.

"We were only talking to her." One of the boys closest to the back called angrily and Patsy snorted.

"All four of you? Must have been important business for so many big boys to tell her... but a word of advice; talk to someone else next time. Her dads a big man in small circles."

"I heard he was a druggie." Mr big bollocks at the back muttered it and Patsy shone the light directly into his eyes making him shrink back as she stepped forward deliberately so that Fern was out of sight.

"You ever heard a cell door closing you in lad?" 

The boy squinted at his friends who all seemed to be edging further away.

"No." He said eventually, his Adams apple bobbed. Patsy put a hand on her hip.

"Best not to push it then. All of you; vanish like phantoms in the night or your best attempts. If not I'll be shoving this torch down someones throat'. There was a long pause where no one moved. Patsy sighed, bent down and picked up a rock. 

The boys vanished as the rock glided into the space the closest one had just been occupying. The sound of high pitched mumblings carried for a while and then faded. Patsy stared down the alley until she was completely certain they had gone and wheeled about to see...

Fern wasn't there.

Patsy swore under her breath and then jogged back out into the highstreet looking left and right for the telltale flash of pink trainers. The shadows were growing again and the rain still peppered the air like chilly bullets. Fern was walking very fast towards the road out of Poplar. 

Patsy stopped, the torch banging against her thigh as she considered just leaving Fern to her teenage angst before groaning as duty coughed politely from within her head and sprinted after the girl. She caught up easily a few minutes later and forced herself to keep pace with the teenager who was staunchly ignoring her.

"Hello?" Patsy huffed feeling her feet tingle in the absence of her boots. Fern ignored her, still striding forward like she thought if she pretended Patsy wasn't there the facts might change. Patsy rolled her eyes and took a long step to stand in front of Fern; blocking her way. With an impatient snort Fern feinted a left duck but Patsy had been half expecting the move and stopped it by grabbing the girls arm.

"That is assault! You don't get to touch me pig!" Ferns high voice didn't carry very far on the deserted road but she did stop walking to glare at Patsy as she dragged her arm away. 

Patsy paused to consider options before cuffing Fern round the back of the head lightly. 

"Ow! What was that for?" The girl groaned more quietly now as she rubbed her crown. Patsy leaned on one leg, hip pointing out as she frowned at the teenager.

"Comparison. That was an actual assault. Thought I'd do it so you can write a moody poem in my honour or whatever it is you kids do these days when your being hormonally stupid."

Fern curled her lip and shoulder barged past Patsy.

"I didn't need your help back there." She muttered and Patsy prayed for strength as she began following again.

"No? Well, I'm sure you had a plan ready to spring into action at the last possible moment."

"As a matter of fact I did thanks."

"Oh please. You're fifteen and built like a broomstick. What exactly were you going to do; deflect their blows with pithy witticisms." 

Patsy shivered in the cold mists. Fern wasn't wearing a jacket and her t-shirt was one of those pathetic half tops that showed off her navel. She must be freezing. Patsy felt cold just looking at her.

"I don't need anyones help."

"I can see that Fern. You're truly pushing for the strong independent woman award right now, Germaine Greer would be proud, but you need to stop."

Fern hissed and Patsy watched as her fists curled up. The girl had been wearing mascara and it was smudged around her eyes from the damp.

"Why? Why do I have to do anything a pig says?"

Pig? Fern didn't usually call Patsy that, she was usually a shy thing in the corner... not anymore apparently.

"Because this pig doesn't want to see your body in a morgue. There was a murder several days ago and until we catch-"

Fern cut her off, vibrating with so much anger it seemed inevitable that she'd lash out soon like lightning earthing itself in a likely tree. Patsy knew the signs too well.

"So one nun dies and suddenly you're imposing curfew? This is Poplar not Thailand and I'll do what I want!"

Patsy sighed... she did understand about pain and feeling like no one understood but that didn't mean she'd play along forever. That was Helens move not hers.

"Fern! I'll take you home in the jeep. It's really not safe out here at this time of night." 

Fern give a maniacal laugh.

"Safe? You think Mick and Allie care where I am or if I'm fucking safe? You think anybody cares about me!"

Fern exploded herself out on Patsy, cheeks rosy and teeth pressed tightly together so that the words were muffled. Her body bucked and gesticulating wildly. Patsy slackened and stepped forward to grasp the girl by the shoulders to look her in the eye.

"I care about you! Seppie loves the bones of you and you have friends. So what, your parents are shit, get in line with your issues. You'll never sort them out if you wander down dark unlit back routes and get yourself killed."

"I can look after myself!" Fern snarled.

"No you bloody well can't!"

"Says who?"

"Says me! Now you either walk back with me or I drag you. This isn't a democracy anymore Fern." 

Something tapped Patsys shoulder. A fist with enough power to make her actually move.

"Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I'm not going back there and you can't make me, I'm getting out of here." Patsy shook her head sadly.

"Where are you going to go exactly, you're fifteen for Gods sake."

"I'm sixteen next month and then I'm leaving."

"And what about your sister, what about school? You still need an education. You're a smart girl Fern, you could make it for yourself you've just got to stick it out." 

"Stick it out!' Ferns face was a mess of snotty tears as she stamped her foot in despair. 'I can't anymore. They said they'd get us out, the pigs, the social. They said we could go to a home, that someone would take care of us but they don't ever do it. No one wants a teenager. Allie doesn't even let us have baths, I smell so fucking bad and Seppies got gunk coming out of a cut in her leg. But no one ever does anything so I'm saving us. I'm taking my sister somewhere we can start new. I just need to get a bit of money together."

Ahh... so there was a bit of planning involved. Even if the plan was the kind usually made by a person with a tendency to wear fingerless gloves and who, occasionally, believe they're a peice of furniture.

"Where are you going to go, how are you going to survive? Money can't just be a one time thing, you can't even do full time hours, you'll bomb out without qualifications. You'll end up like Allie!" 

It was a low blow and Patsy felt like a shit saying it but it did the trick. Ferns trainers skid on the road surface as she came to a grinding full stop.

Fern broke; making a wild swing towards Patsy, spitting and hissing like a cat. Patsy blocked the twig limb easily, half expecting it and dragged the girl to be held tightly within the circle of arms so she was restrained and locked down.

Fern fought, shouting muffled curses and kicking uselessly as she cried. Patsy winced as finger nails clawed at her skin and bruised the flesh.

"I don't... Fuck! You- I don't... I don't need a fucking hug." 

Patsy sighed and tightened her grip comfortingly.

"I know you don't kid." 

Time moved on. Feelings happened and faded. They stood for a while swaying slightly as Fern twitched uselessly. Patsy waited patiently. saying nothing, letting her get it all out of her system before stepping back still holding Ferns shoulders.

"You want freedom? You want it that bad?' Patsy glared into Ferns brown eyes. 'Fine. I'll help you... but only if you work with me. You're sixteen next month... you can make your own damn choices then, so stay at mine, or I'll ring around and find you somewhere. You need to finish school."

"What about Seppie?" Ferns voice was tight, not believing Patsy anymore than Patsy did that what she'd proposed was feasible as she slumped in defeat and Patsy floundered.

"I'm not a foster parent... but I know people."

"I want her with me. What if they don't sign, she's got to be able to talk to someone."

Patsy hesitated and then groaned.

"They might put her with you if you're staying with me... Jesus, I don't even have a spare room." This was already a momental cock up. She should have let the girl run off... But everyone needed a chance. Helen had given it to Patsy, Patsy needed to pay something forward.

"Why did you have to get involved? I needed that." Fern had passed anger, she was simply depressed now. Patsy frowned.

"You needed to have your face kicked in? Fern what were you doing with them exactly."

Fern looked at the floor stubbornly, refusing to meet Patsys eye and Patsy gave up. Pulling off her jacket in one smooth motion she handed it over.

"Put this on, you're making me feel bad. Are you going to come back with me?"

To her relief Fern took the coat and slipped it through her arms.

"I'm not going back to Mick and Allies." She said forcefully and Patsy rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Mick used to break Ferns arm until he lost his leg. The girl had cause not to want to be there. Patsy would kill anyone who tried to make her go back to the commune.

"Fine. Walk back to the strip and let me buy you some food. Thin is fine but I can see your bones." She actually could, Ferns pointed features might be glamourised in magazines but the red skin, black circles and thin dirty hair wouldn't. The girl looked like a mess.

"Can I have whatever I want?" Fern asked, finally unsure and Patsy smiled easily.

"Whatever you want." She agreed and Fern looked puzzled before catching herself and setting off to walk back the way they had come. Patsy let out the tiny sigh of relief she'd been holding in and hurried to follow her.

The shadows watched them go.

Mrs B's was a Poplar staple. It cooked normal food out of season but this time of year the gaudy metallic pink sign welcome them into a dirty restaurant set up like an American diner. Fern walked up to the counter and pressed her fingers to the glass as she stared at the cakes and sweets sitting under there. Her expression was so nakedly wanting Patsy felt uncomfortable as she nodded at the girl behind the counter. 

The place was deserted at this hour and the only member of staff gave them a sulky look as she tucked the emery board she'd been dragging around her perfect nails behind her ear. 

"What can I get you?" The waitress asked in a bored voice and Patsy paused glancing at Fern who was now reading the menu from chalkboard signs above the counter.

"Fern?" Patsy prompted and Fern blushed before turning to Patsy with thinly veiled excitement.

"What's the difference between waffles and pancakes?" 

"Ones ridged for your satisfaction and the other one isn't. Both will give you cavaties." 

Fern scratched her nail on the glass making a teeth gritting noise on contact. The girl behind the counter grimaced.

"I've never had pancakes before... or waffles." Fern looked torn at the aray of choices and Patsy gave in.

"Pancakes and waffles then and a coffee, Fern?"

Fern nodded brightly.

"Yeah, I like coffee." 

Patsy took in the dark circles again and nodded to the woman.

"Decaff." 

Fern deflated beside her like a popped balloon.

"You have to sleep kid." Patsy muttered.

They didn't say anything else as the food was microwaved to shades of hot and dropped carelessly onto ceramic plates. Patsy paid and they sat at a booth close to the window, out of hearing range to the server.

Fern fidgeted as Patsy deposited the tray, staring at the food longingly until Patsy slid both plates across the table. As soon as it was in reach Fern fell on the food immediately, eating an alarming speed as Patsy sipped her drink feeling very old.

"Promise me you'll eat a carrot or something after this." Patsy said eventually as Fern tore a long strip of waffle and pushed it into her mouth with glazed eyes. The girl blinked at Patsy as she took in the request.

"Don't eat vegetables." She grumbled through a mouth full of food and Patsy sighed.

"You'll get rickets if you don't."

"Wha' that?"

"An old mariners complaint... and yours too if you don't eat right." God, she sounded like Helen. It wasn't an all together bad feeling though... Just strange to be the adult for once. Fern smiled through waffle and pancakes. Syrup catching on her sharp chin.

"You're funny." She grumbled and Patsy smiled.

"Me and heart attacks have that in common. Fern... What were you doing?"

Fern paused, about to shovel in more food and shrugged airily.

"Nothing." She evaded. Patsy sighed and relaxed into her seat feeling tired but resolute.

"Did I ever tell you why I can sign to Seppie?"

Fern shook her head looking only mildly interested. Patsy sipped her coffee again.

"When I was younger than you I lived in a horrible place.' 

Fern had stopped eating but she didn't look surprised. Living in a horrible place was her reality too and therefore didn't warrant any particular sympathy. It was Ferns expectation of normal life. Patsy took a breath.

"When I was eleven, everyone was rounded up and taken to this big room upstairs. There were lots of people; kids and stuff."

Fern nodded.

"Like an orphanage." She suggested and Patsy nodded, not wanting to get down too much into specifics.

"Sort of. Well, one day we go to a room and we're told to eat something, something that's going to take us to a new world. Everyone eats it and starts to feel tired and confused."

"Drugs." Fern commented seriously. Drugs she understood very well and Patsy nodded again.

"Drugs. About half an hour later smoke starts piling into the room. There was a fire but people didn't understand; they were hallucinating all sorts of things and then, when we did work it out it was already too late. The doors were locked and the fall too high; there was panic. Someone smashed a window. Below the window were these huge water butts, massive things tall as a house. I was small back then, smaller than you even, and I got through the broken window. I jumped into the water."

Fern was still eating slowly, turning the food in her hand as she listened.

"You didn't die though." She said eventually and Patsy sighed drinking heavily from her cup.

"No. I didn't die, I smashed through the lid into the water. It hadn't rained much and the butt was only half full but I still couldn't touch the bottom. I had to swim in it." The fire had burned for ages as she'd desperately paddled from one side to another like a goldfish and the screams hadn't stopped for hours as one by one people burned to death above her.

"How long did you swim?"

"Two days. The water was so cold but I managed to find a footing in the wall eventually. Police fished me out when they heard me banging on it... When I got out though, I didn't know how to speak anymore. Everyone tried to talk to me, wanting answers and I couldn't take any of it in. They thought the water had ruined my hearing so they taught me sign. That's how I know how to talk to Seppie and that's why I care about you... Believe me when I say you aren't alone Fern." 

Fern blushed and stared at the table, unable to understand how to respond to this declaration.

"Did you really mean it that I can come live with you." 

Patsy didn't hesitate.

"Yes. When you're sixteen, anything younger and Allie can do me for kidnap." Fern paused frowning at the table in concentration.

"Do you really only have one bedroom?" She asked eventually and Patsy laughed.

"At the minute, yes, but we can sort it out. I've got a sofa bed and I've been thinking about moving." She hadn't really until then but as she spoke she realised she was right. The house wasn't a home and she couldn't make it one. She needed a fresh start... So, it seemed, did Fern.

"Will you make me eat vegetables?" Fern asked seriously and Patsy grinned.

"Yes. But only when I eat them too." 

Fern grimaced as she mulled it over before sighing and reaching to fish something out of her pocket. It was a plastic bag filled with a large amount of brown powder. Patsy stared at it for a moment as she understood what it was Ferns big plan had been.

"You were going to sell it?" She asked, trying to keep her voice calm. Fern nodded guiltily.

"I stole it from Mick. He's so high he wouldn't even notice. The new guys left it for him; said there'd be more. I thought if I could get a few hundred quid together I could get train tickets to somewhere; Manchester, where there's more shelters and stuff." 

Patsy forced herself not to lose her temper at the shortsighted plan as she took the bag and weighed it in her hand. It felt heavy but the colour was off.

"Those guys were pushing you off their turf then?" She said eventually and Fern nodded.

"I didn't know the boundaries." 

Patsy sucked in oxygen as she put the bag in her pocket.

"Sixteen. I mean it but if you ever do anything like this again you're on your own. You want to kill yourself I can't stop you but I won't watch it either. Is that understood?" 

Fern gulped and nodded her head solemnly.

"I promise." She whispered and Patsy felt the tightness in her chest ebb slightly at the obvious sincerity in the girls voice.

"Seppie said those guys hurt you, what happened, who are they?" 

Fern blanched and returned to table watching.

"New ones. Never saw them before they turned up at Micks flat. They beat up Allie, tried knocking me about but I was too quick. They keep turning up, trying to sell to Mick."

Patsy drummed her fingers on the table.

"Why though? Who are they?" 

"Foreign, they all have tattoos on their arms. It's a flag; Albanian I think. I looked it up in an atlas at school. Mick says they're cleaning out to move their product in." 

"This?' Patsy tapped her pocket. 'What is it?" Fern frowned.

"I don't know. I don't think they're moving just that but Mick hasn't said anything else. I only overheard it the other day... I don't like the new guys, they're nasty. They kicked Seppie. She's five and deaf; only bastards do that sort of thing." 

Patsy nodded in agreement and sucked her bottom lip pensively.

"I'll ring the social tomorrow. I was going to anyway, see if I can move you both quicker."

"I want to stay with you. You just promised."

'And I'm not going back on that promise. I'm going to try and help before your birthday but I don't have much hope, the socials useless." 

It was Ferns turn to nod her head in thorough agreement this time.

"Why do you want to live with me?" Patsy asked eventually and Fern shrugged.

"You've been in and out for years, you always feed us... You gave me my first book. You talk to Seppie like she's a person. You're good. I want to be good like that." 

Something clogged in Patsys throat and she didn't know what to say. She looked at her drink before sucking up the dregs.

"I've got to go to sleep. Where should I take you tonight?"

Fern looked up from her empty plates and pursed her lips.

"Mick and Allies.' She said reluctantly, 'it's only a little while longer I guess." Patsy slumped, feeling useless and they walked to the jeep without speaking.

Patsy dropped Fern a street away from the flats and watched sadly as the lonely figure padded silently to her home. The realisation at what she'd done; what she'd promised choked her.

She really couldn't afford to fuck this up... She didn't even have an idea yet about how to deliver what she'd promised. It occurred to her that when Helen suggested Patsy let someone in, she probably didn't mean it literally... the apology was going to be long and convoluted tomorrow.

She flicked on the indicator and turned around. The bottles she'd purchased clinked gently together from their position on the floor where Fern had dumped them.

She'd walked this road with Delia just yesterday... Ahh, there it was, the other conundrum to consider. Should she have pushed so much with Jessie? How would she explain herself to Delia if the truth ever came out. Patsy grimaced as she imagined tearful scenes and sighed. She'd already fucked it up before it started and worst of all was the feeling of dissapointment because, really, she did like Delia. She wouldn't mind getting to know her a little better, seeing where the road went...

A shame a better liar had got there before her. Jessie was firmly in position and Patsy didn't want to be a home wrecker anymore. Was it so hard to think that there was someone who could want her back who was fucking available for once? Helen believed so and Delia seemed more than a little interested if the drunk perspona was a true reflection but even so...

Someone was following her. She was certain of it.

Patsy squinted into the rear view mirror as a car bobbed behind her, the lights making further identification impossible. She'd seen it first as she pulled out of the street and it had followed her all the way through the village to now where it weaved silently as she drove down the main road into Poplar.

Patsy shook off the feelings of paranoia and told herself it was the culmination of the nights stresses. She was being silly.

Even so...

Patsy pushed down on the accelerator and watched as the car behind followed suit. Experimentally she indicated left and watched as the car copied her moments later. She stared at her mirror feeling misgivings burn at her insides until, suddenly, the lights were switched to full beam and she was forced to look away, blinded. The car revved menacingly and drifted a few inches closer. Ridiculously close to Patsys boot. Patsys foot twitched towards the break but stopped herself feeling suddenly frightened.

She made it into Poplar through grit, still trailing her new friends before pulling suddenly down a narrow side street from the main strip that only just allowed her car to enter it. Light was shut out as the grimy walls of a pub and a shop closed around her. Confirming her fears; the car behind followed. She bit her lip and put on another more desperate burst of speed before turning the car quickly left and onto a dirt track that led onto the beach. 

The tide would be out this time of night and the sand would be damp still. Manageable in a jeep but not in a shitty car like the one following.

She was right. The car behind seemed to stall and buck as it slipped on the boggy ground almost instantly while Patsy trundled away feeling the fear eat her insides.

Mick had said someone had been asking about her... had someone said something? Who would be interested in her? She didn't allow herself think until she pulled up outside her home. Thinking led to panic. Panic killed you.

The house looked untouched, the flower pot with its spare key was exactly where she'd left it and her street was empty of unfamiliar vehicles. Grabbing her purchases she hurried inside quickly. Glad of the false protection walls and locked doors gave her.

There was one person who might be interested in her she knew. But he was inside a prison and out of reach. Anyway... why would he choose to act now, it had been twenty years... She shouldn't register in his mind surely.

Patsy surprised herself with a bitter laugh at her own childish hope. He would never let her go...

She flicked on the hall light to reveal nothing more ominous than her beige home with its clean smell of bleach.

She tried to calm down even as her imagination worked over time. Fern, Delia, Helen, Fern, Delia, Helen. The faces jumbled in her brain and she pressed her face against the wall trying to find equilibrium. This night needed to end. She'd had enough.

The booze from the car floor was in her hand. She surveyed it dolefully for a moment before striding upstairs to her bedroom.

She paused as she entered inside before dropping the bottle on her bed, dragging the chest of drawers in front of her bedroom door and checking her window. 

Just in case.

She managed half a bottle before passing out gratefully into oblivion. She really didn't need anything else to happen to her in her life.

Unfortunately, Patsy wasn't in a happy book. She'd just turned the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was late with the last chapter so please accept this early admission as repayment. Enjoy, or cringe. I've reread a few times but I don't know if the styles smooth enough and I think it's clear I need practise with developing tension but in any case; the plot thickens.
> 
> See you next week peoples!
> 
> SB


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working nine to five. What a way to make a living...
> 
> Dolly Parton. Nine to five.

"I'm having dinner tonight." Trixie proclaimed forcefully through the car speaker phone as Patsy drove down winding lanes towards work. It was early Monday and Patsy already felt exhausted, the ghost of a Sunday spent in bed drinking luke warm whiskey and curtain twitching was haunting her wrecked sinuses and aching skull.

"Good.' She wheezed rather irritably, 'Personally, I like to eat dinner every night but I know you're strict on your diet regime."

There was a long pause where Trixie seemed to be counting to ten; apparently unamused that Patsy wasn't taking the announcement as seriously as Trixie clearly thought she should. She'd been snippy since Patsy had picked up the call and this last ditch attempt at humour had seemingly missed its target. Patsy glanced at the phone beside her a little concerned; her friend was pissed about something. Patsy could only hope it wasn't really her.

"I mean,' Trixie went on with forced calm, 'that I'm hosting dinner tonight. You're invited. I want you by mine at seven to help plate up and dress semi nice." 

Patsy frowned at the phone again.

"Tonight?' The car from Saturday flashed up a warning and she hesitated. She was feeling anxious driving today, the old fears resurfacing as paranoia began to set in. 'That's a bit short notice... I might have a thing."

"Well cancel her." Trixie snapped and Patsy gripped the steering wheel disliking the tone.

"Jesus Trix, who lit the fuse to your tampon?"

"No one.' Trixie paused as though judging what best to say for a moment. 'I need you there with your psychic body language reader thing. I want your viewpoint."

"Okay... Who am I supposed to be reading?" Patsy asked rather hollowly as she turned into stations car park, winding the window down and flashing her warrant card against the scanner to open the gates.

"No. I'm not going to steer you. I just want you to be there to watch and then afterwards report back to me... Whatever it is you think." Trixie was seriously leaning on mystery at the minute and Patsy sighed as she pulled into an empty car parking space and tugged up the hand break jerkily.

"Who will be there? At least give me a clue before I promise to come."

"Pats... please, this is important, I need you to be there; promise me. I need your word."

Trixie sounded suddenly close to tears and Patsy groaned, already beat.

"Fine. Fine, you have my word. But honestly Trix, what's going on? Has something happened; Tom? Work?"

"Why would you think it's about Tom?" Trixie asked suddenly sharp, the tension thickening again and making Patsy blink, taken aback.

"No reason, I just wondered if you'd had a fight or something, you seem... more tense than usual." Patsy back pedalled hurriedly.

"Well I'm most certainly not. Seven O'clock, don't be late, I'll be ringing you to remind." Trixie said firmly, her breathing a little ragged. 

"Alright, who's going to be there? Just so I can practice my psycho twitchings. Please tell me this isn't another priest thing though, if I have to watch Father Mallory eat calamari with Chopsticks again I'm going to need gin, possibly through a straw." Patsy was gratified this time to hear Trixie chuckle at the memory.

"It's nothing too big. I just thought it was time I got to know the people Tom works with; Phyllis, Barbara, Delia. Delias bringing her girlfriend too." Trixie added as an afterthought.

Patsys hand shook and the ciggerette she'd been in the process of rolling tumbled down onto her lap scattering tobacco over her thighs. She paid it no mind.

"Delia? Why? I mean why?" She asked in a strangely high voice. 

"I just told you, I want to see Toms colleagues and anyway, you wanted to meet her girlfriend didn't you?" 

Patsy closed her eyes seeing Delia leaning towards her in this very car with her hand pressed between Patsys thighs. Trixie didn't need to know how things had turned out... and Patsy would prefer to walk on broken glass than see Delias girlfriend again. Another encounter and Patsy might actually key the bitches car. Who had a sports car near the sea? Who needed that much horse power in a rural town? An idiot, that's who.

"Trixie I really might have something on. Work stuff, you know this case will pick up speed and-"

"You gave me your word... please Pats I need someone there on my side... I need you." Trixie sounded so terribly plaintive that Patsy couldn't say no. Didn't make saying yes particularly more appealing though.

"Fine. Only because it's you though." She said tiredly, gathering up the the tobacco ruefully.

"Seven o clock, come earlier if you can. Love you."

"Yeah, yeah. See you at seven blondie."

The phone clicked off and Patsy sat in her seat staring off at the cars coming in and out of the car park feeling all at once lost and cornered... she should have taken Helen on holiday. Maybe Mick had been right after all, Patsy could really do with fresh scenery.

So... An evening with Delia, Phyllis and Jessie... All under Trixies watchful eye. Patsy had seen something similar in a horror film once; they all died as she recalled... or perhaps it was a porno and they had an orgy... Phyllis's face popped up in Patsys mind and she shuddered. 

Please let it end in the horror movie way.

And there would be Phyllis... Helens great love. Patsy felt a protective surge inside her at the thought of the northerner moving in on her mother and wondered if Helen would kill her if she asked the woman her intentions towards Helen. Helen was the best human being Patsy knew, she deserved the best or not at all... Phyllis had better be good.

Sighing, she nodded as gently as possible to keep her skull from shattering under the dregs of a hangover as colleagues walked past and, after flicking her half smoked fag out the the window, stepped down to meet the day. 

The stations back door was far less glamorous than its glass fronted door near the high street. Someone had drawn a penis pointing towards the handle and the image reminded her irresistibly of Micks flat. 

Fern didn't have a phone. Patsy couldn't decide if she should buy one for the girl. So they could communicate effectively. Nothing fancy, Mick was a magpie for shinies and anything too pretty would be sold for drugs, a cheap pay per time phone might do the trick though... At least she could keep a closer eye on the girls in the meantime that way. She'd have to look into something.

She needed to speak to Chummy too she thought as the bag of drugs weighed heavily in her jacket pocket.

The booking in desk was waiting for her as she dived deeper into the honeycomb structure of the cop shop. Usually, it was her habit to hang about at the desk and chat to the desk sergeant; fishing for weekend gossip and getting a feel for how things were but it was Alice (knife girl) there today and Patsy could feel the red hot glowering from the woman as she pootled past at top speed.

On the edge of the desk was the phrase of the day tacked lopsidedly. It was some bright sparks big idea to introduce a touch of class to the proceedings of booking a criminal in. Thus far its reaction to its target audience had been mixed to say the least; it had been eaten, vomited and pissed on, had been sprayed with blood, spat at, ripped apart and ripped down. It appeared that in a bid to prevent this someone with far too much time on their hands had laminated it for wipe clean reasons. Patsy considered the phrase written in bold font.

Quis custodiat ipsos custodes?

A poorly considered phrase if you thought about it... they all watched each other. That was how it worked after all.

The CID office was the usual tip of takeaway wrappers and paperwork. She noted that Dyers crap had surpassed her line again on their shared desk and made a mental note to change this at the first opportunity. 

The team was huddled behind Dyers desk around Phil who seemed to be holding court. No one looked particularly thrilled, some held coffee cups that suggested Patsy wasn't the only one fighting weekend blues.

"Ahh Constable Mount. Nice of you to drop by." Dyer had spotted her instantly and spoke very loudly so everyone would hear. Patsy weighed the bag from Fern in her pocket, imagining how much damage she could cause if she threw it at Dyers face.

Val hadn't text on Sunday and Patsy had avoided thinking what the hell the happy couple might be doing... Not that she cared.

"I've been busy; got a lead on the dead junkies." She shot back, equally loud.

"Yeah yeah, they OD'd, what did you do?' Dyer asked sarcastically. 'Find a dealer? That's really going to change the world isn't it. Meanwhile, yours truly has been doing actual detective work, you're all welcome by the way, and I know who our nun killer is." 

Everyone eyed each other. Dyer couldn't be talking out his arse, to be this confident he would need real proof. 

"What have you found Phil?" Urusula asked placidly over the teams heads, Patsy turned to see the woman had come out at the noise and was leaning against her office door frame, arms crossed and face passive. Nothing short of a bomb being brought into the office could cause The Boss to show emotion. Patsy often wondered if they closed a door on her hand would she even blink. 

Dyer winked slyly and clapped his big hands together, they sounded like two fish slapping above water. Then he turned to tilt his computer screen so that everyone could squint at it and hit enter on the key board. A grainy black and white video popped up in a box. A car park.

"CCTV footage from Norfolk city centre.' Dyer explained smugly, 'I had a hunch that our girl was doing a bit more than everyone thought on her free mornings so I checked all the car parks and...' He paused frowning at the picture and then grinned as an open backed van pulled into a space.

Everyone watched as their nun stepped down gingerly and a fat man followed suit on the other side. Patsy drew closer trying to make out the mans features. It looked like-

"Fred Buckle?" Someone asked a little nervously. Everyone here knew Fred, the idea that he was a murderer was an uncomfortable one.

"This is it?' Patsy asked scathingly. 'Big reveal Dyer, you don't think he could have just taken her to uni? He works at the convent doesn't he, they'll all know Fred." 

Dyer nodded like a dog on a cars backseat.

"Exactly, he's got access and I've checked the logs, these two have been at it for months. They leave here and go for a cozy walk along the promenade. Every week. We know she was banging someone-"

"The Toffs not come back with that yet.' Patsy interjected sharply, 'there's no evidence to say she was even pregnant."

"Come off it Mount. She was hiding a pregnancy test, we found it. She was shagging about and I'll put money on it that it was Buckle. This set up of theirs is too neat. If it didn't mean anything why didn't Buckle tell us when we found him rooting around her bedroom and even if it's not Buckle, as you seem to think, he'll know who her baby daddy was. I've got my suspicions about the Priest too. Another bloke, nice looking and a flirt." 

Dyer sounded completely convinced and even a few people around Patsy seemed to be nodding despite themselves. Patsy stared at the video again quickly and chose to ignore the dig at Tom.

"This is ridiculous, there's no proof of any of this. She could have been holding the test for someone. She was a nun for Christ sake and by all accounts a devout one. We need to widen the net, not get bogged down on who could have-"

"It's not ridiculous, it's a lead.' Dyer interrupted coldly. 'Something real detectives follow Mount. Honestly, I'll never understand why they passed you through AIDS, from day one-"

"That's enough.' Barked Urusula absentmindedly from Patsys elbow. She'd come closer, her eyes fixed on the screen still rolling grainy film, looking pensive. 'I don't buy it either Phil, Fred Buckle couldn't fight his way out of a bag. I don't think he's our pony but get him in anyway. Nicely. He might know something we don't."

Dyer snapped up a lazy salute, aiming a superior glance at Patsy that encompassed a nah nah na-na nah feeling behind Urusulas back. Patsy scowled. 

"I thought you'd agree with me ma'am and in anticipation of your orders I've sent out Chopsticks to bring him in." 

Urusula swivelled round, her fingertips pressing into her chin as though in prayer and stared at her subordinate. She disliked power plays in her office and unlike anyone else she had Dyers balls in her top drawer.

"In anticipation?' Urusula repeated dryly and Phil grinned a shade nervously. 'Don't play with me Dyer, see Buckle and find out what you can. A video isn't enough to charge anyone so dig deeper or the CPS will laugh me out the court. Oh, and take Mount, she might teach you a bit or two... Mount!" 

Patsy stiffened as Urusulas mile long stare pinned her to the wall.

"A word in my office. Now!" Urusula walked purposefully into her office set apart from the open plan work space. Dyer was bouncing back like a small rubber ball from his slight caution and sneered as Patsy backed away, refusing to be the first to blink.

"Shut the door." Urusula commanded from behind her immaculately kept desk a few seconds later. Patsy, not wanting to be on Ursulas shit list, did as she was told. The office seemed darker with the door shut, the natural light from the main rooms windows were closed away leaving only yellow artificial light from the long bulb attached to the styrofoam ceiling panels.

"Sit.' Ursula barked as she stacked files in one hand. Patsy did so feeling like a well trained dog as she did it. 'There's been a complaint filed against you constable." Ursula said briskly. Patsys head shot up, Ursula was still tapping at the files in her hand, not meeting Patsys questioning gaze.

"Ma'am?"

Fucking Jessie! Patsy should have keyed her car after all. 

"Alison Hodges... One of your snouts I believe?" Urusula enquired still not meeting Patsys eye. Patsy started completely railroaded.

"Allie? Allie put a complaint against me? Why?" Patsy stared at her senior, who gave a small sigh and pulled free a sheet of blue tinted A4. 

"She says' Ursula scanned the paper quickly. 'That you plan to steal her children... I take it that she is wrong." Urusula was peering at Patsy with her thin lips set into a serious line and Patsy hesitated, hovering between what was best to do. Lie or truth?

"Not exactly true ma'am. I met Fern, her eldest on Saturday night.' Succinctly, Patsy relayed the events, choosing to omit the finer details such as Patsy being followed after dropping Fern off. 'She's sixteen next month and I said she could stay with me at that time." Patsy finished breathlessly, allowing a brief tone of force into the final few words. 

Ursula frowned at Patsy as though she was a puzzle to be solved, her fingers drumming a tattoo into the wood of the desk for a few moments as she sucked in her cheek.

"Very well, if she's legally able to make her own choices then there's no complaints to be resolved. The woman named two children however..." 

Patsy sucked in a fortifying breath before ploughing onward.

"There's a minor. Five year old, the social are planning to remove her anyway at some stage. If Ferns with me then they could place Seppie my way, if that happens... I won't say no." 

Patsy made certain that her voice did not give away how utterly terrified she was of this very real prospect. Urusula sucked her hollow cheeks again as she stared at the paper before, very pointedly, she balled it up in her fist and threw it with perfect aim at the wire bin in the corner.

"Children are a great responsibility constable... I do hope you've thought this through." Urusula said in the disconcertingly warmest tone Patsy had ever received from the old war hammer.

"Yes ma'am, sort of making it up as I go along ma'am... Also, there's something else." Now seemed as good a time as any other. Patsy pulled out the bag Fern had given to her and dropped it on the desk between them. Urusula stared at it for a few moments before picking up a pencil, poking it through the bags plastic hoops and lifting it into the air for closer inspection.

"Heroine? I take it this is work related and not an admission of addiction as I'm afraid I will have to discipline such action." Urusula said suddenly cool once more, still looking at the bag. Patsy shuffled in her seat.

"No ma'am, this is work related. Fern, the teenager, is my snouts daughter. She got it off him... to show me. It's new, not like anything we've seen before. I'm going to take it to the Toff so she can test it but I think this is what's killing all our junkies. More worrying is the word on the street." 

Urusula looked up sharply from the bag.

"And that word is?" She asked calmly, though Patsy noted that her eyes were narrowed.

"There's a new firm trying to set up shop. Don't know where yet but they're big players by all accounts. Got links to Newcastle and Manchester. Don't think they do just drugs either, everyone's saying they're moving product. This is big Ma'am." 

Urusula dropped the bag back onto the desk and sat back in her seat so violently the wheels moved and she drifted back a few inches, her hands clasped tightly to her chest.

"There's no news of this on the system, no crimes committed that would indicate this level of finesse. You sure your snouts not lying?" She asked eventually. Patsy shook her head thinking of Ferns fear.

"No ma'am, she was telling the truth... the junkies, they were all my snouts. Most of them were hardened users, they weren't likely to all OD so close together. Someones killing them off to clear house. The nun might have found out something perhaps? Maybe she saw something she shouldn't have?" 

Urusulas pale tongue flashed as she pressed it to her teeth while she mulled this over.

"You think the murders connected to all of this?"

Patsy sucked air through her teeth; finally voicing the idea she'd been thinking of for the last few days.

"I think the nuns death was too smooth for an amateur, let alone Fred Buckle. It seemed professional, the lack of forensics, the teeth, the fingerprints. Whoever did it had knowledge of this sort of thing. It sounds like a firms move." 

Urusula grimaced but seemed to agree. She considered her paperwork for a heartbeat before speaking.

"I have a few friends in Manchester, I was in vice before I took this job... I shall make enquiries... Oh, and Mount." 

Patsy looked up from the bag she was pocketing once more a little nervously.

"Ma'am?" 

"Sergeants exams are scheduled for September, I have noted that you did not put your name down on the sheet. Why is this?" Urusula sounded genuinely curious and Patsy shrugged, a little embarrassed at the question.

"No point ma'am, there's only one sergeant position on the team and it's taken." 

Urusula pursed her lips before picking up her paperwork and tapping it on the desk again.

"That is a merely present point of view to take Mount. I expect to see your name the next time I pass the sheet is that understood?' She waited for Patsy to nod sheepishly before continuing. ' Good, I do dislike wastage of valuable talent... The pay increase may assist with your family plans as well. Oh, by the way, moving house and such like will be doable regarding leave but not until September, we cannot spare you until the kids are back at school is that clear?"

"I... Yes ma'am." Patsy stammered, completely thrown by the gesture. 

"Good,' Urusula sniffed, 'now, for everyones sake, get down to the front desk and keep an eye on proceedings with Buckle. If he's our man then Brad Pitts mine but he may know more than we think so it could be worth our time... I'm also relying on you to keep Dyer in check, make sure he doesn't scare Buckle off. Now get out, I'm busy." 

Patsy left the office feeling more apprehensive and dazed than she usually did. Urusula really was a peice of work...

She'd made it ten steps before Urusulas voice rang out again, calling Patsy back, and Patsy was forced to return to the office where Urusula stood proffering a letter.

"Almost forgot. This came through to me by mistake." Patsy took the letter shakily and then scampered back to her desk before Urusula could think of something else to shout about. She gave the letter a cursory glance, took in the courts stamp with little interest; probably a summons for someones day before the magistrate she'd arrested, slung it onto her desk and scampered towards the front desk.

Urusula was right. She really did need to keep an eye on Dyer with Fred.

\--

Dyer was waiting by the door when Patsy found him. He stood half out to smoke a crafty fag, his piggy eyes surreptitiously training over the women as they stepped past him to get in and out. Patsy noted he moved for the men but forced the women to brush up against him.

Twat.

"Buckle not here yet." She said briskly and Dyer turned to glare at her.

"Wrong. He's in interview room three. Waiting for his solicitor, should be half an hour but we'll let him stew for a bit. I like them tense." 

Patsy rocked on her heels for a moment before striding through the doors and lighting her own ciggerette.

"I don't think it's him." She called to Dyer who huffed and strode to meet her.

"Wrong again Mount. I'm an old dog, old dogs know their stuff. He's guilty and once I prove it you can get back to racing druggies down alleys."

For a moment Patsy stiffened, it felt as though Dyer knew something about her weekend but after a quick glance it seemed that the quip was throwaway. A coincidence. Patsy sniffed and inhaled shakily on her fag.

"What's the plan then, for the interview?" Patsy asked when Dyer seemed content to remain in thick silence. It was standard procedure to have a five point list set out prior to any interrogation. He chuckled darkly and threw down his fag butt.

"The plan is for you to say nothing and let me do what I do best. Don't get in my way kid." 

Patsy watched him walk away in disgust. She was close to thirty for fucks sake... Did Val think of her as a kid? God she hoped not. Would Delia? 

Urgh!

\--

The interview room was pale grey with a stainless steel table wide enough to encompass the recorder machine at the end and a laptop currently closed. A glass observation window took up a lot of the back wall and Fred was placed to face it. His solicitor sat beside him in a cheap suit was one of the regular faces in these situations. 

Jake Rebel. One of the stations on call solicitors. He didn't care much about who he represented and as a rule didn't say a great deal for either side. He got paid by the hour no matter what and his council to his clients was all the same; say nothing. By the nervous tapping of Freds shoes on the floor though his client wouldn't heed the wise words.

Fred looked like he was dying to spill his guts.

They switched on the tape and the room filled with background whirring. Dyer, as lead, introduced them all by name and made Fred confirm his name, occupation and address.

Then he went for the throat. Opening the laptop and flicking on the film he'd shown the team for Freds inspection.

"For the purposes of the tape I am showing Mr Buckle item A. A video of him and our victim driving to a car park and alighting together."

Fred gulped but colour returned to his cheeks.

"Circumstantial evidence at best." Rebel murmured, placing a cautionary hand on Freds arm.

"That? That's what you've got.' Fred seemed to be relaxing, his pasty face warming. 'That's nothing. I took Sister Winnifred into town for her course. I pick up my supplies on a Wednesday anyway; it wasn't any bother. She used to get the bus back to the convent in the evenings. You can ask any of the sisters at Nonnatus, I take a fair few around the place. Sister Evangalinas got appointments and Sister Monica Joan likes the pick n mix aisle in sainsburys. It's part of the job." Fred sounded faintly pleading as he stared at Patsy.

Dyer crossed his arms and remained stony faced; clearly, he was still convinced of his theory.

"Regular church goer aren't you Fred.' He said scathingly. 'Tell us, do any of your associates see you on these outings."

Fred swallowed, paling again.

"Associates?" He asked shakily and Dyer nodded seriously.

"Harry Kim, Gerry Hollock. Known criminals, the associates you drink with."

"I- no course not."

"But they are your friends aren't they?" Dyer shot back quickly and Fred flustered.

"Well... I wouldn't call them friends. They're just blokes in the pub." Fred ventured.

"Harry Kim; seven counts of actual bodily harm, nine of grevious bodily harm, four burglaries and one attempted rape."

"Look-" Fred began shrilly but Dyer over rode him.

"Gerry Hollock. Part time theif, petty criminal and registered sex offender... You can see how this might pop up on our radar when a nun, we believe may have been having a sexual relationship with an unknown man, is murdered and you were regularly meeting her. Your associations suggest your morals are lacking which conflicts with your description of taking poor old nuns on day trips Fred." 

Fred was swaying slightly in his seat and Patsy decided it was time to play good cop.

"Look Fred,' She said kindly, 'we just want answers. What was happening on these walks and trips? Where was she going, her course didn't start until the afternoon and she was missing all day? Was she seeing someone? Was something on her mind?"

"Seeing someone? Course she wasn't.' Fred answered gruffly. 'She was a kid, a nun. She wouldn't have even looked at a bloke like that. She used to...' He hesitated and Dyer shook his head in disgust already filling in his own conclusions. 'She used to go to the cinema... She loved the pictures but see, some of the others didn't approve. The nuns I mean. She used to go and see something and then go to university."

There was a long pause as everyone considered this completely beige explanation.

"Rubbish!' Dyer said eventually. 'The cinema. What a whopper Fred. You're telling me instead of meeting a bloke Sister Winnifred was going to the pictures? You're reaching Fred." 

"Honestly, I'm not lying. She swore me to secrecy, didn't want the others to know. It's not exactly against the rules but its a wossname; earthly pleasure. The old school nuns don't approve."

"Fine, if that's your story then what were you doing on the morning Sister Winnifred was found. You were observed by both myself and Constable Mount to be inside her bedroom. What were you doing?"

"I was fixing the window. It was broken and I said I would... and I took something." 

Beside her, Dyer sat a little straighter in his chair.

"So you tampered with a crime scene hours after your girlfriend was found murdered." Dyer said calmly and Fred raised his hands in the air.

"No! No that's not it at all. I took the tickets she kept from the cinema, she swore me to secrecy and I didn't want her name messed with... I, I know it's stupid of me to do but... I promised." Fred answered miserably, his great hands bunching together tightly.

Patsy, try as she might, couldn't believe the mans stupidity. His actions, and she didn't disbelieve his story, might have jeopardised the case and how he was dealt with. Because of a promise; it was so ridiculous it was likely. Classic Fred; always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I think you're lying Fred. I think you were sleeping with the victim, I think you got her pregnant, she panicked, told you and you killed her to stop it getting out. I think you groomed her; by your own account you viewed her as a an innocent. To predators these words mean one and the same as victim. How long were you having an affair?" Dyer menaced.

"I wasn't!' Fred was red faced and sweating, his face shining with sincerity. 'I wasn't doing anything but taking her to the town for school! I've got a wife. My Vy would kill me if I played away. I know I'm not white as white but Murder? No, absolutely not. I didn't, I wouldn't. I'm not the one you're looking for. I'm innocent." 

Dyers answer was condescension.

"This concludes the first interview. We will reconvene tomorrow." He said silkily as he leant across the desk to click the off switch of the tape recorder. The room was suddenly filled with the absence of sound as the cassettes ceased their clicking and whirring.

\--

"He's definitely guilty." Dyer said airily beside Patsy as they watched Fred sweat through the one way observation glass. Dyer was sipping a steaming cup of coffee from a mug looking like a man who's Christmas's had come all at once.

"I don't buy it. We need to ring round the cinema, grab CCTV and double check. It's too stupid a lie to just come up with and I mean... Look at him." 

They both did. Fred was dabbing at his forehead, his belly poking up from below the table, clothed in his stained blue overalls. He didn't look like a man who had murdered a young woman.

"Your point?" Dyer grunted sipping his coffee.

"Well... Would you really put the two of them together? I know she was a nun but if you're going to break your vows, would you choose Fred Buckle as your first jaunt into... sex?" Patsy asked absentmindedly, one of natures on lookers into heterosexual lists of love. Perhaps some ladies saw fat old men as a hot commodity, she couldn't personally comment. 

"He's not that much older than me." Dyer muttered a shade petulantly and Patsy sighed, patting his shoulder lightly.

"No comment sir. I'm going to see the Toff and then I'll go and ask around the cinemas if you want." 

Dyer huffed but nodded.

"Fine but I'm keeping him in. I still think he's our man. Oh, and there's nothing wrong with a mature man. My wife-"

"Right I'll get off then." Patsy interrupted hurriedly not wanting to hear anything about Dyers wife. Ever. Not in that context.

\--

The sunlight stabbed her in the eyes as Patsy walked over to the jeep.

The drive to the morgue was concluded with the window down to clear some of the heat from the cars interior. By the time she pulled up neatly in the car park she was sweating and bad tempered. The sun glazed the ground in heat mist.

The morgue was always cold inside though.

Luckily, the girl from last week was on the front desk when Patsy arrived and waved Patsy through with only a faint pinking in her cheeks. Evidently, she did not want to repeat last weeks remonstrations.

Chummy was characteristically perky at the unplanned visit from Patsy when Patsy knocked on her door ten minutes later. Unfortunately she'd been half way through an autopsy. Patsy had poked her head round the door to find Chummy standing over an old woman with blue lips. She was laid out on the operating table, her chest held open with, from Patsys perspective, clamps that had popped right out of a medieval torture text book.

"I'll be right with you detective, just pull up a pew!" She'd called from behind a blue surgical mask. 

Patsy hadn't needed telling twice and placed herself on the chair beside Chummys desk. Idly flicking through morgue monthly until Chummy reappeared half an hour later.

"Sorry about the wait detective. Geriatric with cardiac arrest. Apparently she collapsed after dinner, quick swill out of her tummy showed she'd just had an awesome steak- which reminds me, I'm terribly famished. Lunch?" Chummy rattled over to a fridge filled with bags of items Patsy did not want to know the contents of before pulling out a tupperware lunch box. 

Patsy shook her head, not trusting herself to stop vomiting as her hangover bit at her.

"No. Thanks." She said eventually and Chummy shrugged before opening the lid and tucking into a corned beef sarnie with gusto.

"So detective what can I do for you?" She asked thickly as she swallowed a large mouthful. 

Patsy pulled free the bag of drugs for the final time and laid it on the desk.

"I've got a present for you. Something new, like you said. I want you to see what you can find out for me." Chummy chewed on her sandwich before picking up the bag and opening it. She sniffed the powder gingerly.

"Not a recognisable scent.' She murmured to herself, turning the bag this way and that. 'Where did you get it from?"

"A reliable source. Not sure what you'll find, but any information would be good. If this stuff is going to be the next big thing we need to know more." 

Chummy nodded seriously before smiling.

"I have a date this weekend." She admitted shyly. changing the subject and Patsy blinked before smiling.

"You do? Chummy that's excellent news, who is he?" 

Chummy blushed and ducked her head.

"A chap called Peter, it's all very exciting I must say. He poked me on the app and we haven't really looked back since. He's taking me to the theatre next week, I'm simply confounded on what to wear of course."

They passed a few minutes talking about outfits. Chummy volunteered she had thought of donning a trouser suit but Patsy pushed for a dress.

"You've got amazing legs Chummy. It would be criminal not to show them off." Patsy cajoled as Chummy chewed her lip.

"Well... we shall have to wait and see detective. I just hope he likes me." Chummy sounded anxious and Patsy smiled at the nervous tone.

"He'll love you... Maybe don't talk about dead bodies while you eat though."

"Good point old bean, excellent point in fact." Chummy said thoughtfully while Patsy grimaced.

Old bean... every time. Patsy hated the name, the Master had called her little bean when she was young. It made her skin crawl... Speaking of things that made her uncomfortable.

"I had another question Chummy, something personal actually." Patsy trailed her nail over the bumps on Chummys desk. Chummy looked delighted at the prospect.

"Go on. Anything I can do to help a chum." Chummy said obligingly and Patsy took a breath.

"I'm thinking about moving house... I might be expanding my family- Not organically or anything, I'm not pregnant.' 

Chummy had swelled with excitement at her first words but sagged back down at Patsy rebuttal.

'I might be taking on two kids for a bit in the future and... my place isn't big enough. I know you rent properties so I thought you might be able to help. Two bed preferably, they'll probably want to be together." 

Chummy frowned for a moment in concentration.

"As a matter of fact; I have two houses that are up for renewal soon, one might suit you... but the children, when did this happen?"

Patsy gave the clip note version of events to her friend and watched her melt when she explained Seppie.

"What will you do with your place?" She asked eventually, wiping her eyes soppily. Patsy shrugged.

"Keep it for a bit, maybe rent it out to pay the mortgage and then see if it works out... It might not so I don't want anything too drastic. You'll help though?" She asked tentatively and was relieved the see Chummy nod with enthusiasm.

"Of course I will. I'll let you know when I have facts for you. Oh and since we're talking facts I can tell you for certain our nun was not pregnant, nor was there any sign if intercourse recently before death." 

Patsy frowned but nodded in gratitude.

"Thanks, I'll let Dyer know soon as... You've really helped me Chummy. Thanks." 

Chummy beamed and took Patsy by surprise when she reached to pull the red head into a rib shattering hug.

"No thanks needed." Chummy said fondly and Patsy blushed almost as red as her hair.

\-- 

The sun had not gone away when Patsy returned to her car. The air felt muggy and her brain sluggish. She needed to sharpen up if she was going to make Trixies party.

The clock said it was already half three on her phone. Trixie said seven. That gave her three hours to get into Norfolk before she had to be home to change.. Patsy had the impression Trixie wouldn't appreciate lateness this evening.

Phyllis, Delia and Jessie.

Whatever the evening would hold Patsy hoped it would end in a quiet nights sleep for her at the very least. She hopped into the scorching cab gingerly and switched on the engine to drive to Norfolk.

As she hit the A road it occurred to her that she never was good at the whole luck thing though... God she hoped everything would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late... I apologise, I'm absolutely knackered. Got a stinking cold to boot. Urgh.
> 
> Next Sunday might be put on hold depending on what I get written this week. I've got a ton of uni stuff to do lol and sadly this is the thing that isn't mandatory! Next chapter will be the dinner. Lets see how it goes... I'm kidding, we all know it'll be interesting. 
> 
> SB x


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were lovers, we were doomed from the start  
> It was all broken clockwork, the dancers both fall apart
> 
> Sam airey. Stars.

"I said seven!' Trixie groused as she answered the door to Patsy. Her eyes quickly took in Patsy still wearing her work stuff with a carelessly thrown on plaid shirt hiding the black tee shirt underneath from sight. 'And I think I said smart casual dress. You look like you just woke up for Gods sake." 

Patsy rolled her eyes and pressed a pedantic peck on Trixies bony cheek as she shuffled into the vicarage foyer. 

"I wish." 

"Where exactly have you been Pats?" Trixie asked sounding exasperated but still mercifully fond.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Patsy joked weakly, waggling her eyebrows. Trixie barely cracked a smile.

"Yes, it's why I asked. Now tell me and it better be good?" 

Patsy caught the undercurrent of repressed tension as it twanged between them and sobered her expression into an apologetic grin. 

"What can I say? I lost track of time, I told you the case was picking up speed." 

"How convenient,' Trixie huffed, closing the door heavily against the setting sun. 'You can put yourself to good use in the kitchen, it's all done but I want it plated up to save time. The evening should be seamless." 

Trixie seemed to be in full party mode and Patsy decided from past experience that it would be best if she just followed orders for a while. 

She'd only been half an hour late in any case, not that she felt this reasoning would help soften the blonde. Hardly noticeable to people in her usual circles at work where timekeeping was often viewed as a sort of optional extra. Alas, she'd underestimated how strictly nurses kept to their routines. 

Patsy had spent a fruitful afternoon traipsing around the local cinemas. A likely vue had harboured her desired results and with a bit of flirting and flashing of her badge she'd managed to convince Keith, the manager, to let her look through the CCTV footage.

She'd gone back about two months all in all and found, to her great relief, that Fred had been right. Or near enough. Old Winnifred really had spent her stolen mornings watching movies it seemed. Action films mostly with the odd musical peppered through for varieties sake. 

Patsy had asked around with some of the staff and they all said they'd seen the nun on a Wednesday. The consensus said she didn't have company with her during the visits.

Patsy had been feeling fairly perky until she reviewed the most recent tapes and found Winnifred hadn't been to the cinema for two weeks. No one could remember seeing her either which left a frustrating and wide open hole of questions to be answered. What had the nun been doing to distract her from her routine? Where had she been going to?

There were no more answers waiting for her at the cinema and Patsy had rung the office looking for Dyer to personally deliver the blow that their pony was a one legged racer. She hadn't managed to get through to him in the end; Urusula had taken the call stating Dyer had buggered off early, obviously thinking he'd completed the job good and proper. 

Patsy had ended the call feeling lighter on her feet, even if she still hadn't concluded her case, knowing Fred would most likely be let out on his way this evening. No one should be caged unless they deserved it she'd told herself.

As she'd strolled through the busy town, fully intending to hurry home for a quick shower and change of clothes, her eyes had falled on a phone shop and she'd paused thinking of Fern and the prickly problem the girl posed. After ten minutes of internal wrestling, arguing with herself about how this might look if the teenager opened her big mouth, she'd given in and taken a trip into the shop.

Supposedly, a contract should only take ten minutes to set up, that's what the sign outside had said in any case but these things never seem to. Before she'd known what she was about a slick salesman had forced her into an uncomfortable but modern looking sofa and by the time Patsy had walked back out again clutching the cheapest handset she could and got to her car she'd resigned herself to being late. 

Trixie and Toms cottage really was beautiful. It was grade two listed and the various clergy who'd inhabited its walls over the past few centuries had been hardworking and pious family types. The kitchen was a warm hub in the centre of the home; all exposed beams and teaked worktops that any interior designer would weap to get their hands on. 

Tom was already mitted up and stirring copper bottomed pots arranged neatly on the hob. He cast a quick smile in Patsys direction as she entered the room but returned to his work as Trixie followed soon after.

Patsy had the distinct impression she'd interrupted an argument and though the house was warm, thanks in main to the cheerful fire burning in the fireplace in the next room, there was a definite frosty atmosphere. 

"What can I do to help?" Patsy asked Trixie as the blonde faffed with glasses and bowls. 

"Lay the table, it's soup with cheese and bread for starter but I don't want to look as though we're desperate to eat as soon as they all get through the door. They'll be here any minute, I said eight and some people,' Trixie spared a disparaging glance at Patsy, 'are punctual." 

And so they were. Patsy had barely finished laying the last peice of cutlery when the doorbell chimed. 

A few moments later and Trixie was leading Phyllis into the lounge diner. Patsy had wondered if there would be any awkwardness between herself and Phyllis given that the northerner would surely have guessed that Patsy might have spoken to Helen and given her message but there wasn't. Phyllis merely nodded rather formally towards Patsy and called; "Good to see you again constable Mount." as she allowed Trixie to take her coat from her. Patsy hadn't even had time to formulate a response further than a tight smile in return before the door sounded again.

The others came over the next ten minutes with Delia and Jessie entering last. Patsy felt her stomach do a kind of backwards somersault as Delia spotted her over Jessies shoulder and shrunk down behind her girlfriends back. 

Jessie made no outward sign that her and Patsy had met before although her gaze seemed frosty and Patsy regretted again not keying her car. The couple stood side by side but didn't speak much Patsy noted a little smugly. 

Barbara had slipped in shortly after Phyllis and the two colleagues were chatting quietly to one another by the fire. Barbara was dressed in a green summer dress that contrasted oddly against her milky skin in the fire light. She looked almost ill and her features seemed drawn. As she nodded at whatever Phyllis was saying she nibbled on her finger nails clutching a big glass of red wine.

Tom had rather jammily remained in the kitchen as all the guests arrived and waved Patsys offer at help away curtly. Patsy, trapped in a room laced with emotional dynamite, tried to feign interest in the book shelf, shaking her head at the scant array of text. Honestly, how many copies could anyone really need of Jane Eyre? She had the distinct feeling she was being watched but in this group it was impossible to know who that person was. 

Tom started laying down the meal a short while later, cloth nochelently drooping over his shoulder as the air picked up the heavy scent of roasted garlic and onions. At his noisy entrance Trixie turned to smile at her husband tightly and Barbara, apparently surprised, coughed on her wine somehow almost choking. Every eye turned to her hurriedly as Phyllis stoutly slapped her on the back. Her remaining wine wavered in her slack grip as she coughed until, inevitably, the red liquid flew up transforming the green to a murky brown. 

Trixie didn't move to help, though the others did, her face impassive as she watched the seen clinically. Tom, looking at the floor the whole time, passed over a tea towel and hastily beat a retreat back into the kitchen as Barbara dabbed at her ruined dress, cheeks burning scarlet and hoarsely informing everyone that she was fine. Honestly.

Patsy walked over to Trixie and brushed against her shoulder. 

"So tell me, what exactly am I supposed to be looking for?" Patsy asked in an undertone while the guests were distracted. Trixie levelled a blank look her way. 

"As if you really have to ask." She murmured back silkily as she gazed heavily at the waifish teacher trying to counter her embarrassment from the other side of the room.

Patsy stood blinking as Trixie moved away to make nice with the others. Patsy took one look at Jessie who seemed to be watching her with narrowed eyes as though Patsy was a puzzle she couldn't yet work out and decided she too would prefer to hide out in the kitchen. 

Walls made her feel safe.

The rest of the starters were served up; vegetable soup in a sly nod to Phyllis who wasted no time telling them all she was a vegetarian. Patsy had to hand it to Trixie; miserable or not the woman could cook. Her marriage to a clergyman who often had guests from other members of travelling diocese had trained her well on how to create simple but well cooked dishes and Patsy began spooning the soup contentedly into her mouth. She hadn't realised how hungry she was.

The room was filled for a few minutes with nothing but the clink of spoons on bowls.

It was too much to hope it would stay that way for very long.

"So, constable, how goes the case of the murdered nun? I'm surprised they let you away to come here tonight." Said Jessie archly, watching Patsy closely over a steaming spoon. Patsy swallowed slowly, forcing herself to meet the womans eye fully with no hesitation. It would be a cold day in hell when she allowed herself to be cowed by someone she'd seen naked. 

"They let me out on tag. I'm sure your works much the same. Out at all hours I assume." 

Jessie blanched wonderfully as Delia laughed lightly and patted her arm.

"She's definitely guilty of that. Ever since we've got down here you're on call almost every night aren't you Cariad." 

"I do what I have to to keep members of the public safe." Jessie sang smugly and Patsy choked back a snort.

"I thought you were a solicitor?" She asked spitefully and Jessie sniffed.

"Yes. I am." She qualified and Patsy smirked.

"Then by statistics alone you must know most of your clients are guilty." 

Jessie tilted her head, a faint flush building in her throat. 

"The law says everyone is innocent until proved guilty constable. If you're not certain about the legislation I'm sure I have a dummies guide I can lend you." 

"No thanks. I think I know how things work Jenny." 

Patsy had thrown the verbal grenade on purpose and watched with pleasure as Jessie shrunk back for the barest second. She was staring at Patsy with slitted eyes and then... Just like magic, Patsy saw it. Recognition. 

Just for a few moments the world was a dark place for little Jessica.

Patsy knew she had the upper hand, knew it in the way Jessies eyes slid over to Delia looking, for the first time, apprehensive. 

"Jenny? How did you know Jessies middle name?" Delia asked slowly, her brows furrowing and Patsy smiled smoothly. 

"It is? That's so strange. I'm sorry, terrible with names, bad with faces. Weird coincidence though." 

Delia nodded uneasily as Jessie swallowed, seemingly fighting an uphill battle to reach an equilibrium. Patsy returned to her soup hastily.

Scrape clunk went seven spoons in the ugly quiet.

"I do like these old buildings Beatrix. You know, when I was travelling in the south of Italy, I entered into ancient villas and I must say you have an air of its grandeur here. I must commend your skills lass." Phyllis broke the silence with all the grace of a duchess at a tea party. 

Jessie was still looking at her soup a little perplexed but Barbara nodded brightly.

"Absolutely. It's lovely here, Tom you never said it was so lovely." 

The atmosphere seemed to drop in temperature by about ten degrees as Tom flushed and looked at his wife, unable to disguise his discomfort while Trixie raised her pointed chin towards the little woman. 

"I wasn't aware Tom spoke to you about our home. I was under the impression your relationship was merely professional." Trixies voice held enough sugar it would send nearby diabetics into comas. Tom gulped and shook his head slightly at Barbara behind his wifes head. 

"We don't- I mean we arent-" Barbara flustered.

"I like green personally though the beige sets of the wood lovely Trixie. But Green... I don't know, it reminds me of home I s'ppose. It's probably not all that stylish but it's my favourite colour... although blue is starting to grow on me." Delia broke through the tension easily and Patsy was relieved at finally having an excuse to look at the Welshwoman.

She was casually dressed in a soft pair of smart jeans and low scooped tee with a navy blazer over the top. Her large eyes were highlighted artfully with light eye shadow and they seemed to suck Patsy in as she watched. Patsy felt her cheeks flush as she realised she'd caught Delias eye.

"I like blue too." Patsy said softly across the table, feeling like a teenager gawping, until their eyes broke apart quickly as Jessie snorted and dipped a strip of bread into the cheese placed at the center of the table.

"Yet she wants to paint our kitchen yellow." Jessie grumped loudly forcing Delia to turn and meet her partners gaze.

"Just the one wall.' Delia qualified to the table, 'where the light hits it in the morning. I thought it might be cheerful when winter sets in and everything looks all dreary." 

"It's to give me a headache more like. We'll stick with my suggestion of grey I think." Jessie said forcefully and it couldn't be plainer that the argument was an old one being aired in company.

"If that's what you want, I only mentioned it." Delia said curtly looking a little hurt.

There was a somewhat ugly pause as everyone spooned at their soup while Delia and Jessie stared at one another in a wordless communication only people who have known one another for a long time can engage in. Trixie, ever the dedicated host, cleared her throat noisily and changed the subject.

"So... Phyllis, how is the school coping after the tragedy, are all the children alright?" 

"They're doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances,' Phyllis had put down her spoon to fold her hands across her chest, her face reflective. 'We've tried not speaking about it too openly with the younger students."

"Sister Winnifred had a few students quite devoted to her. We're trying to get them some support." Delia threw in while Barbara smiled and nodded a little sheepishly.

"Toms offered to hold a service of remembrance for her once the bodies released. He's so thoughtful." Barbara said quietly with the hint of a gush sliding into the warm tone as she smiled at Tom who smiled rather tensely back.

"Yes, well my Tom really is a giver isn't he?' Trixie snapped tartly standing up so abruptly that the table rocked and plates chinked against crockery. 'Tom!' Her voice was a whip slashing towards her husband, 'I think everyones ready for the main, could you get it for us." 

It clearly wasn't a question and despite the fact that nearly everyone still had soup in their bowls, after a quick glance at the thunderous expression on their hostess face, they all dutifully pushed them towards the tight lipped Tom who picked up the first few without speaking. Patsy narrowed her eyes to Barbara who was looking anxious as she peeked down at her lap.

She needed to do something to help before this farce of a party blew up in everyones face.

"I'll help." She said brightly, standing up to take the remaining bowls, balancing one on each wrist before taking the final two in her hands. She'd waitressed for a few months before six form, some tricks you didn't forget.

"You shouldn't bother yourself,' Trixie chided still a little harshly, 'he likes to keep busy." 

Patsy threw her friend a warning look that told her to calm down before walking after Toms retreating back.

He'd already deposited the bowls on the counter and was opening the kitchen window, a cigarette from the open packet on the side clutched in his hand when Patsy entered.

"Trixie hates smoking in the house." Patsy noted rather pointlessly. It was Toms home too after all. He looked back towards her with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't think I could annoy her anymore tonight. This probably won't make much of a difference either way." 

Patsy hesitated for a moment fully aware that Tom didn't appear to want her company all that much.

"She seems a tad tense tonight." She volunteered lightly and Tom snorted as he he lit his ciggerette and inhaled heavily. His wedding ring caught in the reflection from the lighters little dancing flame.

"Trixie is always tense. I don't think I'd know what to do with a relaxed version of my wife." Tom said sadly blowing smoke through the open window. The faint breeze made his short hair waft around his head.

"Not always... Perhaps she's just worried." Patsy offered a little hesitantly, not certain it was her place to get involved with whatever these two were going through.

Tom paused, his hand halfway to his mouth, so the smoke burning up segmenting his features eerily.

"Has she spoken to you about it?" He asked hoarsely and Patsy pressed her lips together tightly.

"Not overtly, just reading between the lines and all that... Look, I don't want to pry-" 

"Why do people always say that?' Tom interrupted loudly, looking back at the window. 'I don't want to pry, I don't mean to interfere, not that it's any of my business. But then they go ahead and do it anyway? What's the point of saying it in the first place? Why can't everyone understand that this is our business?" Two lines were forming between his eyes as he frowned out the window and Patsy walked over to touch his shoulder consolingly.

"Look, you're my friend, Trixie is my friend. That's why I'm telling you that if anythings going on that could hurt Trixie you should stop. Is your marriage worth a mistake? You're trying for a baby, you're both stressed... It's a phase, you love each other and this is a hard time but it'll pass and you'll look back and laugh about it. Or at least you will if you choose not to run away when the road looks rocky." 

Patsy felt almost yoda-ish in her wisdom and for one shining moment allowed herself to consider just how far she'd come from eleven years old being fished out of that water butt surrounded by a field littered in body bags. Once upon a time she'd have given no thought to feelings, she had half thought she was incapable of having them, let alone understanding them well enough to lecture someone else about it. 

The moment didn't last long; ending abruptly when Tom laughed angrily.

"No offence Pats but you're the last person I know to tell me about relationships. Trixie's told me all about you you know. We're married, an actual partnership you wouldn't recognise, by all accounts, if it hit you in the face. What was it? The longest relationship in your whole life was three weeks long, oh, and you're sleeping with your bosses wife who treats you like shit. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones so I hope you'll forgive me if I don't take your advice all that seriously." 

Patsy felt her cheeks whiten as though she'd been physically struck, the unexpected nastiness making her freeze and, quite unlike herself, she found that she was momentarily tongue tied when Tom flicked his ciggerette out the window, shut it and began pulling plates noisily from the oven where they'd been left to keep warm.

She left him in the end to bring them all in; embarrassed by how his easy insult had hurt so much. 

Truth hurt apparently.

The table was still occupied with the others who seemed to be engaged in the smallest of small talk. Home towns, where people came from, all that mundane jazz, as if you couldn't work it out just from the accents. Patsy doubted it was for anyones benefit except Trixies who would undoubtedly fact find as much as she could about poor little Babs.

"I hail from Leeds. My mother raised me on her own you know and while it wasn't the prettiest estate we certainly knew how to get up to mischief." Phyllis was telling the table. Patsy couldn't really muster that much interest in the subject and twiddled her fork, pressing the bottom down so the top levitated before releasing it so the crockery clunked against the wood moodily.

"What made you leave?" Barbara asked politely and Phyllis shot Patsy a furtive look before smiling at her young colleague.

"Oh, the winds of change blew through town and I had a spurt of wander lust. I met an individual who changed my life forever." Patsy raised her eyebrows slightly at the twinkle behind the northerners eyes and assumed the statement was made for her benefit. She forced herself to give no sign she'd noticed the inflection.

"A young man? Whatever happened Phyllis, was it terribly tragic?" Trixie proved to Patsy that everyone made assumptions as she stared at Phyllis with interest. Somehow she managed to spin some of her usual cheekiness back into her voice even as her eyes flicked between Tom and Barbara covertly as he entered the room and began placing plates before the closest guests at the table still looking sour.

"Something like that,' Phyllis said indulgently nodding at Tom as he passed her. 'It was certainly memorable." 

"How did it end?" Delia asked sincerely and Phyllis waved her hand in an airy dismissal.

"I shan't bore you with the story. It was a while ago, I'm sure I wouldn't tell it 'as it was' in the moment. Now, Delia tell us about Pembrokeshire, I must confess lass that I haven't spent a great deal of time in my own country. I prefer Spain or Italy, the climate suits my humours better." 

"Oh,' Delia seemed to flounder slightly, casting Jessie a cursory glance before rallying. Jessie crossed her arms and seemed to be switching off having heard it all before. 'My dads got a fabric shop, my mams a housewife really. We used to live near the sea, or I suppose they still do, so Poplars not all that different really." 

"Except the people are more intelligent round here." Jessie teased lightly making Delias eyes momentarily flare. 

"Yes. Except that of course." Delia agreed dimly.

"I'm from Liverpool originally. Daddy works as a parish priest. I used to help out a lot, I think he hoped I'd find a nice priest nearby and continue the good work but I wanted to branch out, have adventure, so here I am." Barbara said in a slight nervous tone. Trixies eyes could have frozen a small puddle.

"A shame there's no nice priests in these parts you could choose." Trixie bit out and Barbara blushed.

There was a loud thump as Tom practically dropped a plate in front of Trixie looking furious.

"Where are you from Jessie?' Tom asked calmly though his voice was slightly lower than normal and his eyes hadn't left his wifes as they gazed at one another angrily.

"Me?' Jessie seemed almost dissapointed to answer, as though she'd been looking forward to the show down that seemed inevitable. 'I'm a local girl, Hemsby through and through. Went to London to train and picked this one up there. Haven't been able to shake her since." Jessie laughed at her own joke reaching to take Delias hand. It didn't escape Patsys notice that Delia removed it before Jessie could get there even as she smiled back. The smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm surprised you and Pats haven't met before then if you're local. Pats was born round these parts too, weren't you Pats?" Trixie sounded faintly surprised, turning away from her husband.

Both Jessie and Patsy had jolted at Trixies words, both seemingly thinking Trixie knew more than she was letting on.

"No, can't say that we have." Patsy volunteered guiltily, avoiding Delias end of the table.

"Not before the other night anyway." Jessie agreed swiftly. 

Patsy suppressed a wince as Trixies head swung around in her direction, the lazer beam of her eyes practically scorching Patsys face.

"The other night?" Trixie asked sharply and Delia ducked her head looking embarrassed.

"Patsy met Delia in town and thought she'd bring her home." Jessie explained in a sing song voice appearing to find Delias obvious embarrassment amusing and somehow missing how Trixies glare was aimed at Patsy. Accusing.

"Oh she did, did she?" Trixie said slowly, never diverting from Patsys guilty face. Making conclusions.

"She certainly earned her wage didn't she Deels?" Jessie pressed towards Delia who chewed her lip and nodded uncomfortably.

"It was just one of those nights." Delia explained shyly and Phyllis nodded.

"We've all been there lass. I have to admit that I no longer embibe as much as I once did but in my youth I was a regular hellion." 

Delia shot Phyllis a grateful smile and Barbara, who seemed to have rallied from her nervous twitching, decided to take it upon herself to ease along a conversation that, thus far, had been littered with social speed bumps.

"So, you two are locals then? Poplar girls. Go on, tell us the gritty history of the place. Everything can't have been as picturesque as it seems since the dawn of time." 

Patsy decided to take the opportunity to tuck into the main rather than answer, leaving Jessie to give them all another opportunity to listen to her voice. An offer she took with obvious relish it appeared as she topped up her glass looking impressive. Or, atleast, what she thought was impressive. Patsy thought she looked a bit constipated.

"Well,' Jessie began, grinning, 'I don't know about picturesque. Poplars had its share of freak show stuff. The football club for example; you know the owners? Apparently they made their money from strippers and drugs. Total wrong'uns. 

Then there was the odd scandal. The landlord that once was in Poplar used to water down the spirits. Someone found out and it was a right shit show, closed the place down in the end. My mother said she'd never forgive him. It's fraud... Then there was that weird cult about thirty years ago." 

Patsy felt her heart begin to race and tried to find the food she was systematically intaking interesting. Something made harder by the fact that it suddenly seemed to have turned to ash. Of course she'd thought there was a possibility this might happen. It wasn't the first time... Predictably, everyone was suddenly all ears.

Patsy wished they could all go back to waiting for Trixie to fire up on Barbara.

"Cult?' Even Trixie seemed taken aback. 'Patsy, you never mentioned anything about a cult." 

Patsy swallowed her food. It felt slimy against her tight esophagus. 

"Never heard much about it. Think I saw something in the news." She hedged her bets trying for innocent and it seemed to pay off as the heads turned back to Jessie.

"What sort of cult? One of those creepy sex things?" Barbara asked interestedly. 

Patsy gave up on eating and settled for tapping her toe against the floor beneath the table agitatedly.

"That stuff probably went on,' Jessie said solemnly as she warmed to her subject matter with obvious relish, 'but they were more for all following this leader they thought was Christ reborn or something. Flash bloke who had them all hanging around him like slaves. There was even children too, I saw them once in Poplar village. All walking one by one in a line. They had this freaky uniform; like white robes and sandals. Majorly odd." 

Patsys knuckles were white marbles straining against the flesh of her hand. No one noticed, no one was looking at her now.

"You saw them? Did they flick holy water at you?" Delia asked with a laugh that seemed to ring painfully in Patsys ears long after it ended.

"No, that was the weird thing.' Jessie was swirling the wine in her glass round and round as she pursed her lips with sparkling eyes. 'They never looked up, we were there for a fair and this creepy line of white dots wandered down the road. All looking at the floor touching each others backs. My brother tried calling one of the girls and they just pretended they couldn't hear us... Then someone threw something at one of the kids. Must have been a rock because she fell down, her cheek all bloody and it was so creepy, they just walked over her like she didn't exist. Someone scooped her up near the back but no one said anything, didn't even try and ask who'd thrown it and the girl didn't cry. They were like robots or something." 

Everyone looked suitably impressed while Patsy chewed her lip like a dog worrying at a flea. 

She'd never been allowed out on the trips into town, The Master seemed to think she couldn't be trusted but her sister had. Chastity had always been the good one and Patsy recalled clearly the day her sister had come home after that event; her perfect dress dirtied and her cheek cut. Their mother had been too powerless and fearful to do anything but cry for her favourite childs ruin. They hadn't been allowed to clean it out because The Master said she was dirty on the inside.

An ailment beyond tolerance in that Godless place.

It had gone septic in the end, the gash transforming before their eyes into a horrible darkening space that widened and widened as the poison burnt through the thin flesh until it was all gone and bone shone out at them all. Patsy still recalled the appalling smell of decay that followed the little girl like a festering storm cloud. 

She'd died of a weakness in her heart apparently, or so the Master said to the congregation when someone asked where Chas had gone, but Patsy knew that wasn't the whole of it; the girl had been made weak from that wound. The stone thrower might as well have killed her sister there and then... And robot? Chas might not have cried when that rock cut her cheek but she'd cried in bed afterwards banned from speaking, she'd cried when they punished her for breaking the rules, she'd cried when she was burning from a fever no one dared save her from. She hadn't been a robot, she'd been a child terrified of monsters that really existed... And now Patsy wanted to cry because the sad memory had become a funny story told for strangers amusement at dinner parties.

"What happened then? There's no cult now." Trixie asked curiously as she looked again towards Patsy who didn't trust herself to look back at the moment.

"Ahh, I'm glad you asked that.' Jessie answered in a stage whisper, trying to milk the room for all the interest there was. 'The freakiest part of the tragedy was the big finale; they all died. About fifty of them if I remember rightly. They all took a load of drugs, I imagine they couldn't stop taking the stuff most of the time in any case and offed themselves. Even the kids. Then the leader started a fire and burnt them all together in this big hall. He got life of course, someone survived I think and tattled on him but the scene, the scene was disgusting. I looked at the crime scene pictures once out of interest when I started getting into law. You should of seen it; it was like Pompei, all those frozen corpses. They were all wrapped round each other. Probably too stoned to notice they were dying.' Jessie sipped her wine smirking. 'Bad news if you were picking your nose at the time." 

Jessie laughed at her own joke and there was a few stray answering chuckles from the others. Phyllis and Delia didn't laugh Patsy noted. Delia was watching Jessie apparently appalled.

"That sounds awful Jess, it's not funny. Those poor people." Delia chastened uneasily and Jessie rolled her eyes exasperated.

"Listen, those kids were probably done a favour. Lets face it, what life would they have in the real world? Trust me, I've seen it in courts, past a certain age you can't save people. It's sad but they were better off dying early; save us all the tax bill for their treatment in some fancy institution." Jessies verdict seemed to make everyone uncomfortable but she didn't appear to have noticed as she sipped down her wine smugly.

Patsy considered the blunted butter knife beside her hand... She wouldn't mind an institution all that much as payment for teaching the woman to keep her cheap won opinion to herself.

"I can't say I agree lass. The best people in the world usually hatch from cracked eggs. They understand better than anyone else how to fight horror." Phyllis said stonily and Patsy looked up suddenly as a sensible shoe prodded her meaningfully in the calf. Phyllis was watching her carefully and Patsy could only guess how much the woman knew.

Enough to realise how many wounds unseen were chaffing right now perhaps.

"Here here." Said Trixie brightly also watching Patsy.

Patsy tried a smile but failed and picked up her plate still half full.

"Trixie it was wonderful but I need a cigarette. I'll be in the garden, alright?"

Patsy didn't wait for any replies and dumped her plate on the side in the kitchen quickly. Then, maintaining a calm facade, she pulled free a large handful of fags from the open packet and escaped into the back garden.

The sound of continued laughing stung her ears even as she slid back the door quietly and stepped outside. It was a pleasant night at least, warm and sultry with the long grass yet to be cut brushing her ankles. 

Trixie and Tom had spent a lot of energy on the vicarage garden. As close to Eden as you could expect to find. The terrain was naturally rocky given its proximity to the sea but Trixie had cultivated some lively coloured moss and peppered succulents and lush evergreens artfully throughout for texture.

Between two brushy connifers huddled an old wooden bench that, in winter, was protected from harsh winds and in summer prevented sun exposure. Small pot plants were flowering about its feet in shoots of colour and lashed above head height between the trees was a large windchime that danced with the sea breeze.

It was beautiful.

Patsy ignored most of it for the moment and threw herself down roughly onto the seat which squeaked a high protest at such rough treatment. She lit her first ciggerette with shaking hands. Her mind trapped in the past.

She'd never seen the photographs of the room when the police found it. Had declined when offered thinking the sounds of memory had been more than enough. Her last image of the hall had been filled with smoke and confusion, blurred outlines of people staggering around blindly and at the very last; her mother, watching her squeeze through the window. Elizabeths face had been completely empty of any emotion.

It haunted Patsy.

The fact that someone could access those files for mere curiosities sake appalled and angered her. She felt oddly violated and couldn't quite articulate why. It wasn't as though the cult and its demise was a secret, hell, it even popped up as an add on in relevant news stories to this day. Occasionally, she'd see it referred to in documentaries, it was one of the largest mass suicides of its kind in Britain and yet... To hear it spoken about with such casualness was difficult. Like coming home and finding it ransacked with a stranger sleeping in your bed.

She'd smoked the first cigarette too fast and it was already close to being finished. She stubbed it out hastily against the soul of her shoe and lit the next. Her hand was shaking less now as she forced the anger down to a place she wouldn't find it for a while.

As if on cue her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled out the thing with a impatient tug before scanning the little glass screen.

No message, just an empty text box from an unsaved contact. Val. Waiting for Patsy apparently.

Patsy snorted and pushed the phone back into her jeans irritably. Everyone wanted a peice of her tonight it seemed.

"You are aware of the health dangers smoking ciggerettes poses I assume constable?" Phyllis's voice rang out through the quiet night and Patsy jumped.

Looking up blearily to take in the older woman standing above her Patsy mentally rebuked her lack of awareness. She hadn't even heard the damn door opening. 

Phyllis was peering down at Patsy looking more than a little concerned. Patsy smiled and let the smoky paper cylinder bob in her twitching fingers insolently.

"Helen hates it, I'm not allowed when I go to her house." She made sure her voice was even and cool, watching with interest as the older womans stiff jaw quivered slightly at the sound of Helens name. Patsy felt a cruel pang of enjoyment at seeing someone else be disadvantaged for once.

"She always was health conscious. A quality I admired greatly." Was Phyllis's rather gruff reply although her voice shook. 

Patsy nodded and purposefully took another deep drag of her ciggerette. Phyllis, not waiting for Patsy to offer, chose that moment to sit beside Patsy on the bench. The wood made a loud creak as she settled her weight comfortably. 

Patsy watched her covertly out of the corner of her eyes, trying to assess the woman through severe lenses.

Phyllis seemed robust in build, her arms were thin but beneath the slightly sagging skin Patsy sensed muscle. She had a serious, no nonsense set about her mouth and chin but her eyes were kind. Her hair was tamed to some extent now but Patsy tried to imagine Phyllis in her twenties; a more relaxed figure with fly away corkscrew hair and an air of adventure and energy about her.

She could see why Helen had been attracted to the dour northerner. Could imagine too the shadow such a loss of love might have contributed to Phyllis's more brusque attitude now.

She couldn't imagine Helen at twenty. Helen was forever the woman who had saved Patsy at thirty years old and to think of her before that time was difficult. Had Helen been happier with Phyllis? Would Patsy have recognised the woman who practically raised her if things had ended differently between the two of them? 

"You shouldn't let others cause you so much heartache. Words don't hurt unless we allow them to." Phyllis was clearly trying to be supportive for God only knew what reason. Patsy felt her lips twist into a sneer.

"I'm not feeling any heartache, just wanted a bit of peace and quiet to be honest." Patsys unsubtle suggestion fell on deaf ears. Phyllis merely cocked an eyebrow.

"I understand that kid. Just remember no one should be an island." 

"What happened between you and Helen?" Patsy asked abruptly, wanting to move away from her own muddy past. Phyllis frowned slightly and her hands, which she'd folded over her lap, squeezed together convulsively.

"I... I'm not sure our relationship is a matter to discuss with you." She answered flatly and Patsy bristled.

"If you want to start seeing her again properly then I have a right to know if you're worth her time." Patsy knew she was going too far but couldn't find it in her to stop. Phyllis's eyebrows had now raised so high they almost dissapeared behind her curly fringe. 

"I disagree lass. Best we not argue about it though. We're neither of us too set up for a barny and besides; we're both on the same side." 

Patsy sagged and sucked at her ciggerette anxiously. They sat in cautionary silence for a moment; Phyllis apparently unperturbed and Patsy fidgety. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"It must be nice to have a past everyone doesn't get to have an opinion about... I know you know by the way." Patsy surprised herself by how bitter she sounded to her own ears. Phyllis sighed and patted Patsys hand in a conciliatory show of kindness Patsy didn't know how to take. 

"I don't know everything, only rumours and I've never cared too much for other peoples second hand stories... But you're right. I imposed and I'm sorry." 

Patsy flicked away her ciggerette and looked out glumly towards the garden. She didn't really know what to say to that. Silence resumed once more as she considered Phyllis. 

"Do you really love Helen?" Patsy asked eventually, feeling a dogmatic urge to keep Helen safe no matter the cost. Phyllis paused as though considering herself carefully. 

"I did as a young woman... I do now as an older one. Helen was quite the heartbreaker.' She glanced at Patsy with a slightly wistful smile. 'I can see why she loves you so much. You're very similar to how I remember her back then you know. She should be very proud." 

"Should she?" Patsy couldn't stop the question coming out and immediately regretted saying it as Phyllis's smile became softer.

"Words lass. It's all just words. You're a good kid, don't let others make you think differently... and I mean it about being an island. It's no fun when you're older trust me." Phyllis seemed to have said everything she intended to because she began to stand. 

Patsy made a split second decision Helen would doubtless shout at her for and reached to touch the gnarled hand before it could slip out of range.

"I gave her your letter. She... remembers you well." 

Phyllis seemed lost for a second as her throat bobbed. 

"She- That's- I'm glad." Phyllis finished lamely and Patsy nodded. 

"She doesn't know whether you still feel the same or if the moments finished so... do you have a pen?" 

Phyllis frowned but reached into her jacket pocket and produced a biro looking puzzled. Patsy took it without bothering to explain and, trepidation running through her like electricity, she scrawled eleven numbers on Phyllis's palm. 

"It's her house number. She's in most nights. If you really care about her then you'll have to make the first move. She's too stubborn to do it herself and do me a favour? Don't tell her you got the number from me. I love Helen too you know." 

Phyllis was gaping open mouthed at Patsy as though she couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Are you-" Phyllis began in a choked voice but Patsy cut her off hurriedly.

"Take the number,' Patsy commanded firmly, 'but so you're aware; if you ever hurt her.... I will personally hunt you down and bury you in an unmarked grave. Understand?" 

Phyllis nodded mutely and Patsy watched with satisfaction as the older woman walked back towards the house. As the silhouette reached the door another shape detached itself from the shadows and began walking back the way Phyllis had just come. 

Patsy, assuming Trixie was coming to herd her back inside to make nice with the other guests, rebelliously lit another ciggerette up and turned back to the garden. Refusing to look at her friend who she couldn't help but hold accountable for her shit evening. 

After five strained minutes where no one called her name Patsy wavered slightly and cast a sneaky look to her side.

Someone was indeed standing close by watching her but it wasn't Trixie.

"It's so quiet out here." Delia said casually when she realised she had Patsys attention. 

Parts of Patsy softened without her permission. Delia looked quite arresting by starlight.

"Not as quiet as you might think." Patsy said a shade ruefully as she shook herself and forced eye contact back to the glowing cherry tip of her cigarette.

Delia seemed to falter at Patsys tone and fidgeted slightly, passing her weight from one foot to the next. Patsy could feel those blue eyes watching her through the darkness.

"I should go back inside..." Delia trailed off seeming awkward and Patsy bit the inside of her cheek; not sure if she should invite Delia to join her on the bench or return to the safety of the house. 

"I'd just like to say-" Delia began breathlessly.

"You can sit if-" Patsy said at the same time.

"What?-" 

"Pardon?-" 

"Sorry you-" 

"No, it's me, please-"

They both stopped interrupting one another at the same time only to smile a little shyly across the divide. Delia bit her bottom lip as two identical dimples slowly sharpened into focus either side of her curling mouth. Patsy felt a cold shiver start up behind her knees.

Wordlessly, she patted the empty space on the bench beside her and Delia, after the smallest of hesitations, stepped closer to sit down next to Patsy. 

The proximity had been hardly noticeable when Phyllis sat there but now Patsy was aware of the heat as Delias leg brushed against her own. The faint softness of an elbow against her ribs.

"I'd like to apologise,' Delia began slowly and although the light was poor Patsy knew she was blushing, 'about the other night... I don't know what came over me. I wasn't myself, I don't usually drink like that I promise. I woke up the next morning on the sofa so ashamed. When Trixie invited me I was nervous, I knew you'd be here... You must think me a complete fool." 

Patsy licked her lips. They were suddenly very dry. Of course this would be about the other night, Delia would want to talk about it because that's what normal people did.

A bloody annoying habit of human communication that Patsy currently felt she could live without.

"Don't worry about what I think. You had a drink, it happens. Believe me I've been much the same in my time."

"I doubt that somehow." Delia whispered and Patsy smiled sadly thinking of her years spent hanging around the bars as a teen. She'd been drunk most of the time back then just to stop the nightmares.

"Still. You didn't break the law and you got home safe. Sounds like a good night all in all... and I don't think you're a fool.' Patsy paused as she tested out her own daring in her head before going on. 'You seemed like someone who was hurting to me." 

"I don't remember all of the events.' Delia answered quickly, sounded a little shifty now, neatly sidestepping Patsys observation, 'but I think I said certain things I didn't mean. I think I groped you a bit too... I'm not like that usually. Honestly, I'm quite sane and appropriate most days." 

"You didn't say much,' Patsy said airily as she shrugged throwing her cigarette away to smoulder amongst the grass, 'and you were a little handsy maybe but you've got such little hands... I don't think it counts." 

There was a sharp intake of breath as Delia paused to digest this response. Patsy swallowed but didn't look away from the dying light of the ciggerette butt until a warm hand enclosed her own making her flinch and look down. Delia was pressing their palms together, gauging the difference in their fingers.

"I imagine to someone like you they are small." Delia muttered a trite laughingly as they both took in the size difference before letting her fingers slip into the gaps between Patsys and fold over to graze the back of Patsys hand. Patsy watched with a detached feeling of completeness as though she was watching from outside her own body. It was an innocent enough gesture but it felt uncomfortably comfortable to be this close to Delia. The gaps so perfect a fit. 

She cleared her throat noisily and pulled her hand away feeling too vulnerable. Delia cocked her head, letting her hand linger in the air for a moment before placing it palm up on her thigh.

Somewhere far off to sea a boat honked it's horn and the grass bowed against the dry, hot breeze.

"I'm very happy with Jessie." Delia said quietly to the night at large. Patsys stomach muscles tightened perceptibly.

"That's good then." She answered evenly.

"She's a good woman." Delia went on as though chasing a particularly tricky train of thought.

"Right." 

"She looks after me, really cares. After my accident she was so supportive and she puts up with me even when I feel tired." 

"Are you such a difficult person to live with?" Patsy asked calmly wishing she'd brought more ciggerettes. She wanted to distract herself, wanted something to do with her hands that wanted to hold Delias still.

"I don't think so. Not usually." Delia muttered appearing to find the question perplexing.

"That's nice then." Patsy said non commitally still forcefully staring at the grass. Delia didn't sound all that certain of what she was saying and Patsy couldn't help but question who Delia was trying to convince.

"She said you put me on the sofa and left. Said you seemed angry at me." Delia left the unspoken question hanging between them and Patsy groaned internally.

"Not angry just tired... It wasn't anything to do with you." 

"Oh,' bizarrely Delia seemed dissapointed with this answer. 'I wasn't sure if I led you on somehow. Then, with Jessie coming home, I just hope I didn't make you think less of me. That's all." 

"No' Patsy finally turned to meet Delias eyes. They were quite sincere and, in Patsys opinion, entirely indecent in their unknowing pull. 'You didn't lead me on. I understand the difference between sober attraction and drunk. Don't worry, I could never think less of you for that... I was just there, you might have done that with anyone."

"I wouldn't.' Delia whispered, shaking her head and looking troubled, as though revealing a terrible secret. 'I've never done anything like that before... I don't really know why I did what I did." Even to her own ears she must have heard the doubt and she grimaced.

"Well then I'm flattered Delia. Thank you." Patsy said very gently in a bid to hide the odd thumping of her suddenly racing heart.

"I... I find you very attractive." Delia said to her lap after a few minutes looking tense and Patsy felt the fingers on the hand she had pulled from Delias curl involuntarily.

"That doesn't have to mean anything... It doesn't make you a bad person." Patsy comforted awkwardly, not entirely sure she was saying the right thing but knowing silence wouldn't help the situation.

"I've never felt like this before." Delia trailed away as she turned her torso to point towards Patsy, her eyes travelling across Patsys face quickly. Patsys whole mouth felt dry and she tried to remember how to breathe. 'You're very interesting." Delia finished quietly.

"I think you're interesting too." Patsy managed weakly and this time she didn't flinch when she felt Delias hand reach to touch hers.

"What do you think that means?" Delia asked softly, her warm hand an anchor against the ice in Patsys chest.

The lights from the house winked as a lamp was pressed on. The house loomed large in Patsys minds eye; full of inconvenient witnesses and reasons for sensible action.

Patsy sighed feeling desperately sad.

"I think it means... that we should go back inside and you should sit with your girlfriend while I wash up in the kitchen." She said it a little shakily, wishing she was a better bastard.

The dimples faded as Delia released Patsys hand slowly. Their eyes met; blue against blue and Patsy felt a disconcertingly strong suspicion that this woman was not like others. She was not uniquely beautiful or the only woman who could inspire attraction from Patsy but she was different in that she heralded possibilities hitherto unforseen. Behind the blue eyes and dimples Delia Busby held the potential to make an indelible mark on Patsy in a way Patsy had always avoided up 'til now. 

Probably still should actually.

Delia cocked her head slightly as though trying to see Patsy more clearly and Patsy knew that in this moment she wanted to kiss Delia... because Delia would know how to make kissing sweet and because Patsy wanted to taste something besides tears for once and because it would be good and...

Patsy broke off contact abruptly and stood up feeling a stiffness starting up in her knees that made the joints ache. It was as though her body was punishing her for walking away.

"See you inside." She said hollowly to the dark top of Delias head and walked back to the French doors, back to reality.

Inside, the loud pitter patter of voices drifted through from the living room as Patsy moped into the kitchen and set about scraping plates contents into the bin.

The doors opened and closed smoothly some ten minutes later just as Patsy began filling the sink with soapy water. 

Delia didn't come into the kitchen and Patsy refused to admit how dissapointed she was of that fact.

\--

It was finally over. 

Patsy had sidled back into the living room forty minutes later. Delia and Jessie had been ensconced on the sofa wedged beside a now green tinged Barbara. Patsy had drawn a smidgeon of pleasure at the fact that, though Jessie lent to wrap a careless arm over Delias shoulder, it did not sit comfortably. Delia was perched on the seats edge looking pensive.

Barbara was munching crackers laid out from a plate while Trixie watched her with a mix of barely bottled mistrust and outward snideness.

Phyllis merely sat tracing circles on her palm, her thoughts somewhere far away. Probably years.

Conversation was mercifully sparse and it wasn't that long before excuses were being trotted out and guests were seen firmly to the door by a grey faced Tom.

Patsy sunk deeper into the love seat beside Trixie who rested her face on Patsys shoulder fretfully.

"It could have been worse." Trixie muttered tiredly as the sound of the front door shutting on Barbara wafted through to them in the lounge and Toms feet stomped upstairs purposefully. Patsy sighed and rested her cheek on Trixies golden hair.

"True... There could have been snakes." 

Trixie laughed weakly and sniffed as she jostled; reaching up to rub at her eyes and yawning.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" 

Patsy wavered thinking of her phone, of Val probably waiting for her at home and bobbed her head slowly. Yes.

Coward though she was for it she would prefer to wait a few more days until that inevitable conflict occured.

"If you think that's okay for you guys... I wasn't sure if you needed alone time to talk." She said hesitantly. Tom still hadn't come back downstairs yet.

"Do you think he's sleeping with her?" Trixie asked in a barely there whisper and Patsy closed her eyes, blocking out the light.

"I think... You should speak to him about it... I know he loves you Trix." 

"And is that enough?" Trixie sniffed sadly. Patsy sighed thinking of Delia, of Val and Helen with Phyllis.

"Sometimes, I think." Hell, what was she saying? What Patsy didn't know about relationships could probably fill a very large book. 

Trixie chuckled darkly and rose slightly to discompose Patsys resting head.

"What are you doing with Delia Patsy?" Trixie didn't seem angry at this point and Patsy grimaced not really ready with a neat answer to hand. Probably nothing, harmless flirting... Holding hands?

"Nothing. Honestly, it's like you said. She's too good for an old dog like me." Patsy avoided Trixies eye and Trixie shook her head slowly looking worn down.

"I don't know if I said that exactly but I know one thing... You should be careful with that one. She couldn't take her eyes off you over dinner." 

Patsy mentally tried to find space to fit that little observation in and failed.

"Would you mind if I just hit the hay on your sofa? I've got a long day tomorrow. Work stuff mostly, I said this case was going to get busy and I want a bit of time to sleep. The case is- Well, I'm tired." 

Trixie nodded understandingly and got to her feet with a long look at the doorway leading to the stairs. For the first time this evening she looked a little nervous.

"Blankets are under the cushions." She said quietly in lew of a better goodnight and trudged upstairs after her husband.

Patsy made up the rudimentary bed quickly, pulled off her trousers and shirt and lay awkwardly on the short sofa. She was too tall for the small frame and her feet poked from the bottom of the wooly blankets to point foolishly towards the door.

Her phone buzzed angrily like a trapped fly from the coffee table and Patsy reached for it lazily. Already knowing to some extent what the message would say and who it would be from. She'd never answered Val and from experience this would enrage the woman no end. She bit down the guilty twinge as she scanned the phone and told herself not to be so soft. 

Two messages from Val left blank with a third one having just come in.

"Are you coming or what!" 

Patsys thumb hovered over the key pad as she mulled over whether to answer, fighting the guilt again... and honestly, why bother replying anyway? They weren't all about talk Val and her. Maybe, at their beginnings Patsy had allowed herself a brief foolish day dream about...

And besides, it was becoming patently obvious to Patsy that Val increasingly wasn't enough. The arrangement wasn't working. She wanted something more, something permanent or as permanent as she could manage... Hell, maybe holding hands on a bench like a teenager hadn't been what she'd envisioned if she was being honest with herself, if indeed she'd ever really envisioned anything anyways but laying here on her own Patsy thought she could admit to herself that she'd quite like to do it again.

The realisation was equally frightening as it was enjoyable.

She started again as the phone buzzed between her lax fingers and fell to smack onto her chest. Sitting up and wincing she reached to peak up the phone, squinting at the screen.

A new unsaved contact. A new message.

"Hey, this is Delia. Delia Busby. I know this isn't why you gave me your card and I don't really know if you have a work phone or if this will go to your personal one but I wanted to say... Hi. I found that paperwork Sister Winnifred gave me and I didn't know if you would come to the school Wednesday after the kids have gone and get it?" 

Patsy froze, reading and rereading the short message. Well, the universe truly was playing games with her wasn't it? Her greedy eyes traced the curves of the letters typed out in the phones neat font. Her fingers smudging the glass slightly with unexplainable sweat. As things went, she thought to herself shakily, this was all becoming so... interesting. She thought of Jessie and frowned; messy too come to think of it.

Delia. Delia Busby.

In her minds eye invisible shoes hung above her head waiting to drop. Threat and promise.

She wanted to say Hi...

Val didn't seem to be about to send another message. She'd probably be sitting in Patsys kitchen right this minute stewing over the first unprecedented rejection right now and Patsy could only hope her tidy house wasn't too damaged in the light of Vals wrath. And Delia? What would Delia be doing? 

Patsy reeled off a quick response, just agreeing to the Wednesday meeting and waited patiently as she placed the little phone back onto the coffee table watching it owlishly. The room fell into shadow as she flicked off the lamp with one hand, her face reflected by the dim light of her phone. 

She waited for far longer than she would ever be prepared to admit to anyone for a reply but nothing came through. Delia was probably busy with Jessie she thought with only a hint of rancour. Knowing she didn't really have any right to feel that way. It was possible the text was made purely for innocent reasons she considered dolefully.

After an hour fatigue reared its persistent head and she was helpless to stop herself from snuggling down into the squishy give of the sofa. Above her head the sound of Trixie and Tom getting ready for bed travelled through the ancient wood. Neither seemed to be speaking and for once Patsy enjoyed the feeling of being the third wheel in a domestic rather than the cause. 

It was perhaps half an hour later when Patsy wondered idly, the edges of her mind turning fuzzy as her brain slowly closed down, how badly all of this would hurt when it exploded in her face. Probably quite badly she thought fretfully before forcing her thoughts onto less thorny avenues. It wouldn't do for the person who entered a forest clutching matches to complain too loudly when they were burned after all.

Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep. Her dreams flickering between burning corpses, the flesh melting down half remembered faces and warm hands holding hers as the fire smothered them all to dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking as one exhausted banana to my fellow fruits I'd like to thank you for still reading despite the two week holiday (gawd thats hoping people still are lol!) 
> 
> This chapter was difficult to write, not just because I'm constantly knackered at the minute, but just because there's so many emotions I want to capture. Alas, its always better in my head and maybe I just don't have the skill level yet. I've reread it loads and think I've just got to let it go as I wanted the various relationships to have their little spotlight moments. I hope it doesn't seem to squashed or short! 
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoy my brain vomit, you stay cool my beauties! I'm off to sleep for as long as I possibly can!
> 
> SB x


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You hit me once, I hit you back.  
> You gave a kick, I gave a slap.  
> You smashed a plate above my head  
> Then I set fire to our bed.
> 
> A kick in the teeth is good for some.  
> A kiss with a fist is better than none.
> 
> Florence and the machine. Kiss with a fist.

Patsy woke early the next morning, long before Tom or Trixie had surfaced and chose to make a swift exit in the wake of the last nights dramas. The sun was only just beginning its summit above the worlds edge and she stumbled towards her jeep feeling stiff and uncomfortable.

Sofas were not beds. Anyone who said anything to the contrary were idiots, Patsy thought ruefully, rubbing at her neck.

She'd woken to one solitory text. Val. 

"This isn't over." 

Patsy had rather maturely decided that this missive came under the heading of 'ominous' before placing it to the back of her mind as she nipped home to change her clothes.

To her delight she did not encounter a scene of devastation as she crossed her threshold. Val did not seem to have taken any anger out on her furniture and save an empty glass and bottle of scotch on the kitchen table there was no sign that her home had been invaded. On the one hand this meant she got to work much quicker than she had anticipated as she didn't need to clean up broken homeware. On the other hand, she thought sourly, it probably did mean that Val was saving up her considerable energies to meet with Patsy in person.

Which was a little unnerving.

Patsy managed to sneak past the front desk manned by the permanently ensconced Alice and into the officer earlier than anyone else. The place had a disused air without cops; filing cabinets everywhere and empty packets of this and that. She booted up her computer as she sipped a coffee compromised of more granuals than actual liquid and cast her eyes around the space.

Dyers stuff had really slipped over her line now and was encroaching on her far neater piles with all the mindlessness of a beurocratic tsunami. With a sigh she heaved herself to standing and pushed the wave of crap back to his side. It actually bunched up like tectonic plates meeting. Little miniatures mountains of unattended paperwork bunched up around her fists and more fell from the edge. Patsy didn't bother to retrieve it. Smug bastard. 

And he had some of her paperwork too she noticed irritably. A small layer of envelopes with her name stamped on them littered the right hand side of his desk as she dislodged others from the haphazard stack. Patsy shook her head in annoyance. How anyone could work like that she couldn't fathom. Curling her hand like a fair ground grabber she swept up her mail and tapped it into a more elegant pile safe near her computer. Her eyes slid over the top most missive idly as she sank back to her seat with a muffled groan.

The letter from Urusula. By the look of the thing it had passed a few hands before getting to her, the number of various ammendments to the adressee were faintly ridiculous although the court seal still showed through. She made a mental note to ring the post room and find out if anymore stuff was being kept for her before casting her attention back to her now live computer.

The office was still empty thank God. Perfect time to make a quick call that needed to be made without earwiggers at her shoulder every five minutes. The computer said it was just a little past eight. Susan Griffiths should be in by now.

A quick Google search brought up the official number and Patsy dialled it feeling nervous as she listened to the tone click out and connected. 

Susan Griffiths, or 'Glasses' as Seppie called her, was the girls social worker. As a rule Patsy didn't enjoy speaking to the woman, Griffiths was of almost retiring age and from the outside gave the impression of a wise, cuddly grandmother sort with her sagging neck, thick rimmed glasses, fluffy haircut that permanently remained in a state of static shock and range of beige cardigans. From experience in other cases Patsy knew that the look was mainly a ploy though, a disguise for the gullible. Susan Griffiths was astute, knowledgeable and occasionally condescending. Her professionalism was well known and she was high up in the ranks. That she had been assigned Fern and Seppies case was telling.

She reminded Patsy of her teenage years when she'd been forced to run the gauntlet of social assistance, being passed from one social worker to the next every other month. She'd been an unsolvable problem back then and no one had wanted her. Patsy had been made to feel alone surrounded by good doers who did no good. She was determined not to be one of the useless ones in regards to Fern and Seppie.

Patsy waited, as her namesake said she should, patiently to be put through to the various departments until she reached a likely option and spoke briefly to a groggy sounding receptionist, explaining about her basic reasons for calling; namely a report of things observed in Micks flat. Patsy had already decided she'd leave the add ons for Susan alone. She was immediately made to wait on hold until Susan had been consulted. The music was some classical thing, five minutes in, it made small but important parts of Patsys brain go crazy. Then, the receptionist was back, sounding breathless and the call was put through.

"Hello? Susan Griffiths, Primary social worker, how can I help?" A crisp, authoritive voice tumbled through the phone. Patsy inwardly cringed as a small part of her that never grew up stuck out a mental tongue and blew a raspberry. 

"Hello Susan, it's constable Mount calling. I was wondering if I could speak to you regarding Fern and September Hodges. Alison Hodges daughters?" Patsy began, trying to sound as official as she could. 

"The Hodges family?' Susan was going for jolly but there was an edge there. She probably wouldn't want to talk about ongoing cases without good reason. 'Go on constable, I'm all ears." 

Patsy took a breath. Starting at the beginning was good enough for that nun from the musical, it would have to be good enough for her now she thought. Patsy explained her recent visit to Micks flat, prior visits and her opinions. Susan listened without interruption save asking for a few more details here and there. Once Patsy had finished she felt almost light from unloading her thoughts on someone. The kids weighed her down and now-

"We are already aware of the difficulties in the household constable but every piece of evidence is greatly appreciated.... I'll make a note of-"

"There's more...' Patsy interrupted briskly. She paused, her legs suddenly weaker as she took a deep breath, she'd been thinking about this part, how best to put it across and eventually come to the conclusion that Fern selling drugs would not help anyone right now. 'I came across Fern over the weekend. She seemed desperate and informed me she plans to leave home. I've offered my home as accommodation for her and her sister."

"You have?' The social worker sounded more than a little surprised now and Patsy gulped as she hovered over the gaping precipice she stood before. 

She had to do it. had to take a leap, even if she fell on her face it would mean she'd tried.

"I have.' She affirmed seriously. 'When she's sixteen. I've got a spare room, or at least, I will have by then and I've told her she's welcome to it. They both are."

"Sixteen is not necessarily the issue constable, the legal age of adulthood is eighteen after all." Susan said with a tired little sigh.

"So... What does that mean? I can't let her stay without her mothers consent?" Patsy asked with some trepidation, thinking darkly of Allies complaint. She hadn't factored in Allie agreeing and couldn't see it happening. The kids were cash cows for the couple. Allie needed that money and wouldn't part with her assets easily.

"Fern can go where she likes, hasn't she already told you?' Susan went on in a slightly louder voice that seemed to crowd over Patsy shouting thoughts sounding mildly surprised still. "Have you ever heard of Gillicks Competency constable?" 

Patsy blinked, unsettled at the sudden quiz into children's law.

"No. What is it?" She asked carefully.

"Not used now of course, updated as Frasers guidelines in more recent years but the concept remains sound. In practice it means that a child can be assessed and found to be competent and mature enough to make their own life decisions without parental control. Originally created when a mother refused to allow her fifteen year old daughter to go on the pill, it can be applied in this situation. Fern has asked repeatedly to be removed from her family home and the assessment was made some time ago that she had understanding and the ability to make sound and reasoned decisions regarding her wellbeing. In short; you could let her move in today if you wish although we will, of course, maintain contact with Fern is she does choose to go down this route to ensure she remains cared for."

Patsy paused, non plussed at the womans calmly delivered litany. It was news to her about any of this.

"So... she can go any time she wants to go? Why hasn't she, haven't you offered her a hostel or something?" Patsy asked confusedly. A slight heaviness behind her eyes said a headache was brewing up nicely in her back brain.

"Of course we have.' Susan said defensively and faintly through the line came a light tapping noise that suggested a pen was being drummed against teeth idly. 'Ferns been offered numerous placements, we have done everything we can to get her out of there. She's declined all attempts." 

"What- Why? What's her reasoning? She seemed dead set when I spoke to her on Saturday." Patsy needed something to do with her hands to stop the agitation leaking into the phone call and spyed the letter on the desk, the brown edges sharp and inviting. She stretched and groped for it before using the corner to clean beneath her nails distractedly. Some people doodled, Patsy fidgeted.

"Fern refuses to leave without her sister; September. She's quite focused on taking the younger sibling elsewhere it seems. Alas,' Sue broke off for a moment sounding mournful, 'that matter is entirely different." 

"Different? Why? Seppies home life isn't any better than Ferns." Patsy argued calmly using the corner of the envelope to swipe a spot of dirt from beneath her thumb nail with shaking hands. She needed to keep it together.

"It's different for several reasons constable.' Susan said patiently. 'The girl is a minor; four years old. She's handicapped physically with possible development disorders yet to be diagnosed."

"She's deaf.' Patsy interjected stiffly, thinking of Seppies intelligent face, her language skills and grimacing at suppositions against her abilities. The girl was clever, she just needed nurturing and as for handicapped? So maybe Seppie couldn't hear, so what? Who needed ears for anything but holding up a hat anyway?

"Just so. As you can imagine, a disabled child poses more intricacies. We're working with the family while a section 47 enquiry is undergone but the children, while a little rough around the edges, seem fairly well kept in relative terms at least." 

"Well kept?' The exasperation was audible in Patsys voice. 'They're filthy, their quality of life is less than poor and the accommodation shoddy. Come on Susan, the place is crawling with drugs and questionable associates." 

"Michael is undergoing rehab I believe and through education and support these conditions may improve." Susan said as neutrally as she could manage although Patsy knew it was hard going. It wasn't Susans fault, she was supposed to be an unbiased party, she couldn't become emotionally entangled in situations; she'd never stop if she did. Patsy forced herself to direct her irritation else where. Social workers weren't bad guys as such, they were the bastards who were sent into bad situations and there were so many situations, so many children. The task was endless and even walking into work some days must have been a feat. Patsy couldn't have done it for any money.

"They're just kids." Patsy said sadly in way of explanation and apology.

"Yes constable I am aware of that fact,' Susan said tiredly, a little frustration showing through for a second, 'and I must ask you, are you? They're children not sweeties. Taking on two children with complicated histories is not a simple matter."

"I know that, I've thought about it at length and I know I can manage it. Trust me, I can do corkscrew personalities." Patsy really wasn't worried about that. She understood fucked up roots, she'd manage that aspect.

There was a faint disbelieving cough through the phone line. Patsy ignored it.

"Well... That remains to be seen but it's good to hear you're so keen. September is not in any immediate danger and until a report is filed with recommendations from an independent commissioner our hands are tied. September cannot be removed unless court approved or the parents release parental rights, at which time September will need to be handed to relevant foster families with an aim for adoption as an end goal."

"But that could take years." Patsy said weakly, feeling winded. Susan merely sighed again sounding utterly weary.

"Constable, I have nearly sixty children on my caseload who are registered as 'at risk' with a further fifty on the 'to be kept an eye on' list. Some of those children could be killed at any point because of negligence, physical abuse or starvation and we do what we can. Really we do. The man on the street can shake his fist and complain about our practices but, as a profession, we do not like removing children from their families. It's unpleasant and damaging for all parties involved. They may not have the life you or I would choose for our own but their life is theirs... I'm sorry not to have been more help constable." It sounded like a dismissal and Patsy sat straighter holding the phone.

"Wait! What about Fern living with me? If the enquiry says Seppie should be removed, surely the next best thing would be placed with family, living with her sister?" Patsys stab in the dark illicited a dark hmmph from Susan this time.

"Ferns fifteen, she's not old enough to be a guardian to a minor.' Susan replied sternly. Patsy pictured sharp eyes gazing over half moon spectacles. 'The only possible way for that to be a consideration would require Michael and Alison to sign over guardianship to you. Tell me, do you think this a likely outcome constable?" Susan already knew the answer, or at least knew Allie and Mick well enough to assume. Patsy sagged.

"Not at the moment... is there really nothing I can do?" Patsy asked through slack mouth, feeling as helpless as the girls would be if she couldn't pull off a magic trick for them.

"Yes. There are a million things you can do.' Susan said in a much more enthusiastic voice. The difference was jarring as she moved her mind from Fern and Seppie momentarily. 'You obviously have an aptitude with children and a will to help. That's something we need in huge supplies. If you're looking to give a child a good home then become an adoptive parent. There are hundreds of Septembers already waiting for someone with a good heart in homes across the country." 

"I'm not doing this because I want any olf kid.' Patsy refuted with a roll of her eyes. Who did Susan think she was? Mary freaking Poppins. 'I've known these children for years, I want to help them in particular." 

"Your blurring of professional boundaries aside constable, I'm afraid there's little I can do to help.' Susan said quellingly. 'Fern can stay with you, and I wish you every luck, but September can't. There's procedures protecting the family unit by law, steps that need to be taken before we can begin to consider alternative placements for September." 

"And how likely is that you'll find a family that can sign in Poplar?" Patsy asked witheringly.

"Possibly not in Poplar should that event arise. We may need to consider areas away from Poplar." Susan rationed with a complete blandness that Patsy found offensive.

"And how is Fern supposed to keep in contact with her sister if she's fifty miles away or more?" Patsy breathed in frustration.

"We will do everything we can to maintain a family link." Susan replied coolly. Patsys knuckles whitened where they gripped the phone.

A family link? Fern was Seppies anchor and she doubted Fern would turn out half as screwed up as she could if Seppie was safe.

"Doesn't their wellbeing mean anything to you people?" She asked finally in disgust after going through a number of more colourful responses in her head. She needed not to piss this woman off too much.

"Wellbeing means everything to me constable." Susan was affecting a pious tone of voice that felt like nails on the blackboard of Patsys soul. 'It's why I work in the field I do but we have to work within the law. The law moves slowly. You should know that already." 

"Right.' Patsy said through gritted teeth, 'thank you for your time." 

"And you constable. Obviously if Fern does decide to live with you I imagine we'll speak again. Until then."

The phone clicked off as Susan ended the call. Patsy held the phone to her cheek for a little longer, her hand squeezing the fragile plastic of her desk handset.

So that was it? 

Fuck! What was she going to do... Fern must have known this Patsy realised dully, must have thought Patsy would be able to fix it somehow. The realisation that the girl thought so much of her was touching but unhelpful. How on earth was Patsy going to help them?

Patsy had less than a minute to control herself as the office door opened and Urusula entered inside. She had a long coat and wide brimmed hat on and looked almost comical as she squeezed her frame past desks.

If The Boss seemed surprised to see Patsy she made no sign of it as she strolled past. Patsy thought she might have somehow managed not to blip on Urusulas radar for a moment as the woman unlocked her office door. But...

"Mount!"

Maybe not then. Patsy turned guiltily in her seat to look at the older woman who'd stepped half into her office, her palm pressed against the frame as she glared at Patsy shrewdly.

"The sheet is still not baring your signature constable." Urusula barked loudly and Patsy frowned. 

"Sheet ma'am?" She asked timidly.

"Sergeants exam. End of the day Mount or I'll put you down myself." 

Patsy opened her mouth to reply, possibly to trot out some lame excuse about not feeling ready, but Urusula had already turned away, not waiting for it. In Urusulas. mind at least the demand was just that; a demand. Discussions were things that happened to other people. The door closed loudly as the other opened and the rest of the team dawdled through, chattering loudly. Patsy reached for her mug in a bid to present herself as vaguely casual before bothering to look up despondently. 

The mug nearly slipped right back to the desk.

Dyer was walking amidst the crowd. Both of them. Val wasn't looking in her direction but that didn't matter. The point was clear. She was here and she was pissed. Very very pissed if the mere hours of time it had taken her to make the decision of actually coming into work were anything to go by.

Well... This was going to be bad. Patsy knew it the same way spiders know when an earthquake is due. Unfortunately, unlike lucky octopeds, Patsy didn't have an easy escape planned. She could get up and walk out... but Val would follow her. Patsy was sure of it and then... What?

Patsy gulped and tried to look busy, staring sightlessly down at her computer screen as Val clutched her husbands arm and walked him feet away from her.

That was deliberately done too.

Patsy disliked seeing Val with Phil. Val knew that. While rationally Patsy understood that the two were married and the affair between her and Val was just a temporary way for Val to get back at her husbands near constant adultery... it still twisted her insides up to see the proof. 

The jealousy was hard to stomach as Patsy sat trapped in her place. Just as she was supposed to be. Val perched on Dyers desk, her back to Patsy, chatting about some holiday they had planned. Phil answered her in various shades of grunt, apparently unhappy with his home and work life colliding in such obvious fashion. Patsy noted clinically that he checked his top drawer with a subtle pat against the handle as he sat down. He kept his 'other mobile' in there along with his black book. Patsy had seen it before, the list of his conquests and the irony that he was able to organise his extracurricular shags better than his desk was irritating in the extreme.

Forcing herself not to show any emotion Patsy swept through her emails as Dyer did much the same, ignoring Val in the vain hope she would leave quicker. How Val had managed to talk him into allowing her to walk into the office like a school boy with his mother was a mystery Patsy didn't want answering. She knew better than most how single minded Val could be when she wanted to be. 

And the tactics that she usually employed.

The emails were hard things to capture Patsys attention as she squirmed in her seat, sweating despite the cool a/c blowing recycled air through the space. Chummy had pinged her pictures of the houses. Patsy flicked through them distractedly. What was the point in looking if she couldn't even-

Val was going, waving off her husbands muted encouragements to do so with as much poise as she could. As she stood up she turned just a tiny bit, enough to glance in Patsys direction.

Neither of them blinked. They'd agreed that at least at the start of the catastrophe. No one was to know, to even guess. Val, when she spoke, was calm and neutral, as would be expected from an officers wife to any of his colleagues.

"Nice to see you for once Mount." Val said quietly. Patsy winced, she hoped for both their sakes that only she picked up the small inflection. Val was dressed in dark jeans and blouse. Tidy, appropriate for taking your husband to work Patsy supposed. 

Still probably wasn't wearing underwear though, Patsy judged, eyeing Vals arse as she sauntered out the room. Dyer whistled low as the door shut and shot Patsy a look that said 'women eh?' Patsy didn't bother to respond, she had bigger things to think about.

She forced herself to wait an agonising fifteen minutes before daring to move from her seat. No one was looking her way, which was just as well really she told herself firmly, although... Patsy sort of hoped someone might call her over. Give her an excuse not to do what she knew she had to do.

No one did.

\--

Down the corridor separating CID from the more mundane arenas of day to day policework was a series of little side rooms. The rooms were usually empty and only used, in the main, for victims; kids, rape victims, serious assaults. Their purpose was to offer victims privacy away from prying eyes; usually while an old fashioned identity parade was being prepped or statements were being recorded. They were all identical from the outside with neat letters printed onto plastic plaques bolted on the doors, the only break in their regular conformity. They also had helpfully thick blue blinds blocking out their contents. 

Except for the one with the door left ajar of course. 

Patsy walked over to it heavily, her boots seeming to be sucking at the ground with every step, her muscles bunching in anticipation and dread. This was not something she had ever planned for; desperately stupid and ridiculously dangerous. This was work, this was her place of work and Val-

Val was waiting for her in the room just as Patsy knew she would be. As slowly as possible Patsy entered the tiny space, almost frightened to make too much noise like she was some luckless trainer following their angry lion into a cage with all the protection of a stick bearing a plastic hoop at the end. 

Val was sitting on the lip of a standard issue interview desk, her hands spread flat against the edge of the plastic lining like she needed to restrain herself from charging the distance between them. Patsy closed the door as quietly as she could, her hands sweating, turned the lock behind her back and lent against the solid strength of the door allowing Val to take her in. 

There wasn't much light in here, neither of them fool enough to draw attention from outside and the blue stained shadows hung around Vals mouth and jaw making her oddly sinister sitting silhouetted across from Patsy. 

Patsy hesitated, cleared her throat nervously and made a half step towards Val, raising her hand as though to cup the womans cheek and then paused. She was not at all sure if the touch would be welcomed by the silent Valerie or merely viewed as weakness. They never did soft touches, embracing, any of it. Just fucking. Not even nice fucking half the time and whenever she'd tried for more, tried to soften a little, Val had pushed her harder. Steering her into the world she was comfortable with. Patsy had never really argued the point, hadn't seen the use, but now- Now she wanted to. 

The thing that niggled about Patsy, the thing that kept poking at her was... that you could say this atleast about Val; the woman was sharp. Prickly. Something quite tragic must have occurred at some point to Val in order to make her so... angry. Patsy hadn't dared ask too much but the signs were there if you looked hard enough. An unnecessary flinch here, a mysterious small scar there. Val was troubled. Patsy had thought choosing someone like Val would help; that perhaps they would understand one another better than most. 

She'd been wrong.

It was coming up slowly like mist creeping off the roiling sea. Anger and resentment finally shouting their votes. Val hadn't been very fair even if Patsy had allowed it.

Patsy let her outstretched hand slump down to her side limply and hissed out a low whistle between her teeth staring Val down. Val narrowed her eyes, the index finger on her right hand shuddered as though a dams walls were bursting.

"Where were you last night?" Val bit out as the air thrummed, the hurt and the humiliation was a tightly wound spring coiled through every word. Waiting for the first opportunity to unwind. Patsy squared her shoulders reflexively.

She hated playing chess.

"I was out. At a party. Minding my own business, not that it's any of yours." Patsy answered harshly, Val should know better than to do this here of all places. 

Val surveyed her for a few moments, fingers practically gauging scores onto the flimsy desk before seemingly coming to a decision. In one fluid movement she propelled herself off the desk and into Patsys waiting arms so that Patsy grunted with the sudden force of weight and stepped backwards for support. They collided in a mish mash of bared teeth and lips; far too well matched.

Patsy groaned as sharp nails gripped the back of her neck, marking red lines on the tender flesh as they both battled it out; trying to see who was more angry than whom. 

Battle was the word for it.

They were fighting even if neither of them wanted to say it in real words. Patsy couldn't stop her skin from bursting into goosebumps as Val pushed against her insistently, filling her world with rage and hurt. Patsy knew she was being punished; Val intent on making her pay for her disobedience. Patsy knew too that this wasn't entirely because of last night. It was bigger than that. Patsy hadn't broken their game, she'd simply refused to play at all and that fact seemed to be working quite the number on poor old Valerie. 

"Stop, Jesus, stop it." Patsy submitted, not knowing how else to approach this situation, fighting for breath as Val pushed her more securely against the door. It hurt her ribs and shoulder blades and the wood rattled as Patsy dragged her hands up to Vals shoulders and shoved hard, trying to disengage Vals grip. 

Just for a second.

It didn't work, her hands were shaking too much, the bones weak against this attack. Val still had her by the throat viciously.

"Did you fuck some other girl while I was sitting, waiting for you to turn up for hours, in your shitty kitchen?" Val hissed, pressing her damp face into the hollow beneath Patsys ear. Patsy panted as her airflow became momentarily unimpeded. 

"No." She choked hazily. Vals breath was just as broken as she twisted her face this way and that against the raging pulse of Patsys throat. Her lips tracing words she never bothered to tell Patsy where she could see it.

"Did you want to?" Val asked wretchedly, sounding shockingly desperate in the thick silence and Patsy gulped; thinking of Delia with an almost crippling burst of guilt.

"Yes." She croaked eventually, her eyes burning as Val jolted against her in shock, the lips faltering as a bubble of sound pushed its way between them. Patsys muscles seemed to be freezing up, trying not to do anything as provocative as breathe before-

"Fuck! Val!" 

Val had bitten her hard on the neck, not to bruise or leave one of those twee love bites you saw on teenagers. No. It felt like she was going to chew right through the skin, rip Patsys voice out from its source 

Patsy reacted instinctively and threw out the wheel of her palm at chest height. Val stumbled back and Patsy crowded her away from the door, up against the desk keeping their bodies flush. 

"I hate you so much." Val hissed spitefully, her fingers digging at Patsys skin like a plough at the beginning of a new season. Patsy shrugged her off easily now as the rage burst through her and gripped Val two handed at the waist, shaking her roughly until her head bobbed back and forward like a doll. 

"You hate me so much you fuck me whenever I'm convenient!' Val tried to claw at Patsys face, the fingers arcing towards Patsys eyes but Patsy braced the flying limb. Pinning it tightly beneath their sides. 'You hate me so much you come here today to find out why I wasn't there.' They were pressed so tightly together it was hard to tell who's heart was beating against who's ribs but Patsy didn't care. She was done caring right now. 'You hate me so much you want to claw my eyes out at the thought of me with someone else.' Patsy felt Vals thighs fall apart as she surged even closer and found herself helpless as she thrust against the soft space between Vals legs. 'Do you think it doesn't kill me that you'd rather be with your husband than me? You think it's okay to pick me up and drop me whenever you want? Couldn't I be enough for just one fucking moment?" 

Her voice was tight again but it wasn't from the choking. Val was watching her open mouthed as the air crackled between them. Patsy hung above the brunette, pressing her shoulders down to the desk and Val licked her lips.

They kissed again, still battling it out, but the subtext was already changing, warping into something they both could deal with. Patsy was allowing herself to lose as she let Vals nimble fingers find her buckle, her zip. 

Vals hands were cold. Always cold. She never cut her nails short either and Patsy hissed as Val grabbed her tightly in one hand with all the vim and vigour of a presidential slogan.

"Oh cry me a fucking river Patsy. Am I breaking your tiny heart? You should know better." Val mocked her even as she scraped away Patsys underwear and pushed three fingers unceremoniously inside making Patsys arm shake, weakened. She bit back a cry as the pain registered an inch before the pleasure. Val wasn't messing around today and Patsy saw stars as her head fell stone like to press against the brunettes sweaty chest.

Too fast. This was so wrong, it wasn't fun anymore.

Patsy tried to shuffle backwards but couldn't, Vals legs were locked behind hers, urging her on and she just... Couldn't.

"Stop." Patsy wasn't above begging now but Val didn't seem to be bothering with the whole listening thing and Patsy, teeth gritting together in humiliation as her spine shot through with unwanted pulses of electricity, collapsed onto her side.

There wasn't any desk waiting to cushion her fall and she fell awkwardly. Together they tumbled to earth like a pair of fallen angels. Patsy dragged Val on top of her, fist clutching at Vals shirt as the desk thudded horribly on its flimsy feet close to their head. A chair crashed far off as they both groaned in genuine pain. The floor hurt, the concrete cutting through the cloud they'd been hovering on.

Patsy used the momentary pause in proceedings to take a firmer grip on Vals cotton shirt and levered herself away, her eyes rolling back as she forced Val to release the curled fingers inside her body.

"Tell me, when you let Dyer fuck you, do you think of me?" She taunted, straining as she dragged Val so she was half slumped away from Patsy. 

Val chuckled darkly and brought her knee up to Patsys crotch. Patsy huffed, her hand loosening as she bent over. 

That really hurt. 

"Don't be so stupid, I think of someone I actually want." Val replied silkily already pressing her advantage, grinding her knee harder, making Pat actually cry out at the force. 

"You don't fancy me? Maybe I'll find someone who actually does then!" Patsy threatened as she side stepped another knee jerk assault and managed to hook her leg around the offending limb. Val had almost got to her hands and knees, her breathing ragged as Patsy tightened her hold and flipped them over, dragging Val onto her back again.

"Who'd have you? I'm the best you'll ever get Pats so stop talking as though that could ever happen." Vals words should have registered more, should have flayed Patsys insecurities out into the argument, as real as any cut or bruise, but the blood in Patsys ears was beating like a war drum and anyway; she didn't believe Val. Val cared, she just didn't know how to show it. To be normal.

That had been part of the attraction for Patsy at first. 

That was a while ago now though. Patsy forced her hands to gentle as they dropped Vals shirt and drifted to ensconce the womans hips. It was odd to have Val so unattainable. She didn't miss that God awful dress. 

"You're lying to me.' Patsy said with conviction, feeling the tremors running under her palms. 'You don't have to do that you know." She wanted to say something better; wanted to offer something more attractive to make Val admit what was truly going on but she didn't have the right words. She didn't know how to change what they had into something else. Something better, more healthy.

"Just get it over with." Val breathed, her hips raising up in invitation and Patsy shook her head slowly, the brain dragged thus far at great expense whirred inside her throbbing skull.

"What's your favourite colour Val?" Patsy asked conversationally.

"What?"

Of all the questions Val might have been expecting, that one had not been on the list. Confusion littered the brunettes gaze as she stared up at Patsy. Thrown.

"What did you want to be when you were little?' Patsy went on, forcing her voice to be high and cheery. 'I wanted to be a sword fighter, I wanted to save damsels, be a hero. What's your favourite song? You got allergies? Pets? Who are you? I want to know." 

"Fuck off!" Val, for the first time, actually seemed frightened. She tried to push Patsy off but Patsy was heavier than she looked and refused to let herself be budged. 

"I didn't go home with anyone... I didn't deserve this...' Patsy accused levelly. 'My favourite colours blue by the way. I'm allergic to oranges, I don't have pets and I deserve to be known.' Her eyes burned as she prevented Val from squirming away. 'You've never asked me anything real have you? You never cared as long as I was available." Patsy couldn't stop, she was drunk from pain and adrenaline and Val- 

"I don't ask because I don't care; you just have to do what I want you to do." Vals voice trembled, her eyes overbright. Patsy relaxed slightly and reached tremulously to wipe the womans cheek with the pad of her thumb. 

'Get. Off. Of. Me." Val ordered sounding strained. More hostile from a kind touch than if Patsy had sat punching her in the face. 

Patsy froze and then pulled away, getting to her knees clumsily as Val coughed and rolled protectively onto her belly. 

Patsy wanted to cry, her chest burning as she tried pulling herself together. Some parts had drifted a far way off or so it seemed as the two women parted, crawling away to opposite sides of the room.

The problem with two people trading demons was that eventually one would win out over the other. Patsy eyed Vals back mournfully. Val was like an hour glass; tall and gritty. Look too hard and she'd show you a reflection of yourself, hit out at her and you'd cut yourself on the womans edges.

They both caught their respective breaths, sitting splay legged against the wall. Val wouldn't meet Patsys eyes.

"I won't ever leave him... I thought you knew that." Val spoke quietly to the floor after a long enough pause. Oddly kind as Patsy coughed, her chest bursting with more anger than she knew how to contain.

So it was that simple for the woman? Surely to God it couldn't be that easy for her. Why?

"I did. I do." Patsy said eventually, her face flushing.

"So why didn't you come home when I text you?" Val asked perplexed and Patsy fought back tears. 

"Because... I hoped I was wrong." She said sadly watching the kaleidoscope of emotions reflect themselves in Vals features. 

"You're not... I love my husband." Val said quietly and Patsy shook her head not bothering to argue that falsehood. There wasn't the time. 

"But you still come and find me... Couldn't you learn to love me too? Just a little?"

That really was the matter settled; Patsy had officially bypassed stupid and flung herself into full blown pathetic territory. Val had gone very still. 

"No.' She whispered apologetically and Patsys heart quivered against too many fault lines to count. 'I thought you knew that too." 

Well... that was harder to hear than Patsy had anticipated.

Patsy could feel the tears trickling down the line of her nose and stared at the ceiling breathing through her mouth. Her nose felt stuffy and prickled as the salt dried the skin. 

"Then I don't want to do this with you again after today. I'm asking politely; don't come to my house, don't come to my office, don't get in my space Val. I don't want what you're offering any more." 

Vals breathing faltered as though she couldn't quite believe her ears. Patsy felt more tears waiting to fall as the woman crawled over and a cold hand drifted down Patsys hot cheek. The fingers were still so so cold.

"You don't mean that- You're just upset. You've had a dissapointment but it'll pass. We both know this is too good to just walk away from." 

"Good?' Patsy mocked a little deliriously, 'this isn't good it's- it's painful. It hurts Val. I need something better than this and you don't know how to give it to me."

Val finally stopped, resting back on her knees to frown at Patsy, biting her lip. 

"I know how to give you other things." She said carefully, eyes faintly glowing.

"Not what I want." Patsy affirmed heavily. 

"That's it then? It's over?" Val didn't believe her, the doubt was as clear as a very clear thing on a clear day wearing clear glasses and Patsys mouth twisted in bitterness. She'd wasted so much time on hope.

"I think so." 

"I'm... dissapointed." Disappointed? Was that the right word? Patsy could label a fair few more colourful adjectives to this conversation besides that.

"Sorry about that.' She said as lightly as she could. 'But if you ever need me.' Patsy snaked out a hand to hold Vals cold fingers one more time. One last ditch effort. 'You ever need someone who's on your side, you want to get out; I'll be there. I care for you... a bit." 

Maybe more than that... Maybe.

"You made me think we were the same.' Val shook her head looking faintly amused. 'I was wrong. You're just another hero. Life doesn't have happy endings for people like us Patsy." 

It was true. They both knew it but Patsy rebelled, her face tightening.

"It's supposed to... I have to try." 

Val was already leaving, getting to her feet slowly, brushing dirt and dust from her jeans briskly. Everything said that needed saying apparently.

"No. No you don't.' Val said to the room at large, shaking her head regretfully. 'See you around Pats."

She left Patsy sitting where she was. The door shaking on hinges as a hint of anger returned in the wake of Patsys refusal to follow. Maybe Val did wait for a while in the corridor, just in case Patsy changed her mind. In some sick way Patsy hoped she did. Didn't hold her breath though. What would be the point?

After a suitable length of time, the tears were wiped away, the every day face resurfacing. She was still at work. Real life was still happening and would continue to happen no matter how much she wanted to remain where she was on the floor. 

Val was right in a way. The world wasn't like that; wasn't a movie or a story with easy outcomes. Life was messy, it was painful, it was uncomfortably unreliable. 

Patsy nipped into the toilets before daring to show her face again. Her cheeks were red, swollen lips and an already darkening patch of skin that threatened to bruise coloured her neck. She looked exactly like she should after what had happened. A quick inspection with toilet roll said she was bleeding a bit too.

Fan-bloody-dosy.

Patsy walked back to the office at a sedate pace given the burning in her groin. Nails. Straight women never to did bother with nails. 

Never again. Not one more time as long as she lived. That was it, she was going to sort her shit out. Patsy had often been told that during the darkest times she would one day look back and laugh. Somehow, she didn't think she'd ever be cracking out this little vignette to anyone at a dinner party. Ever. 

Her phone was ringing when she got to her desk and she ignored it for a breath, wondering how quickly she could get out of work. She needed time away from people. Her emails were still open and the pictures of nice sized family homes taunted her. 

Fern. Patsy needed to speak to Fern. Maybe she could get to her today after school... The phone still demanded her attention.

"Yeah." Patsy barked down the phone, letting some of her annoyance loose on the unlucky caller.

"Oh- She does answer calls sometimes then." Was the snarky reply. Patsy fought back tears of frustration. Not. Now.

"Alice. What is it?" 

"You know the amount of times I left messages on your answering phone I imagined you one day picking up." Alice retorted equally scathing.

"Either pass on your message or hang up. I'm busy." Patsy answered curtly. She wasn't busy yet, the emails still needed looking at. The dead nun. The junkies. All of it still existed although Patsy doubted much would be achieved today. 

"Ooh, well far be it for me to interrupt your police work Patience but you have a visitor. Solicitor asking for you by name. You're giving your girls your work details now? Here was me thinking that you could sink no lower."

"Name." Patsy demanded through teeth that squeezed so tightly together her jaw ached warningly. 

"Jessica Smythe. Seems you've got a hot wire on your case. I must give her my condolences." 

"Or maybe just your knife suppliers Al. I'll be down in a minute." Patsy hung up before Alice could reply and stared at her computer screen carefully.

The important thing to do right now was not lose her temper. The day was full of sharp turns and she couldn't implode. You had to do what was in front of you and possibly, just in the distance, would be an excuse to get out of here.

Besides, Patsy didn't have to be nice to Jessie.

\--

Jessie was leaning against the front desk when Patsy entered through the secure door. Alice was speaking animatedly to the brunette which was a bad sign.

Jessie was clad in a well designed suit that, by the cut alone, suggested it hadn't been purchased from any rack. Her shoes were shiny with sensible but still attractive heels. Her hair was perfectly styled with some designer sunglasses perched atop her head. Patsy couldn't help noticing that she was still taller despite the womans heels though. Jessie looked, in short, stylish and well put together. She made Patsys shabby form seem clumsy. 

Still, Patsy thought bracingly, things couldn't really get any worse today after Val. Alice spotted Patsy first and inclined her head to capture Jessies attention. Jessie turned and waited looking distortionately smug as Patsy approached. Patsy gave a tight smile.

"Miss Smythe. This is unexpected, what can I do for you?" Although it wasn't really. Jessie was the type to dot I's and cross T's. Patsy should have expected something like this.

Alice laughed scornfully at Patsy behind the desk and Jessie frowned, watching the exchange interestedly. Patsy suppressed a sigh. 

"Shall we step over here?" Patsy suggested, pointing to an empty corner and watched appreciatively as Alice scowled when Jessie complied.

Jessie waited until they were out of ear shot before smiling a wide smile at Patsy. She had very white teeth Patsy noted vaguely. If this was an advert they would have gone ting faintly as the light hit them.

"I wanted to have a little word with you Patsy. Can I call you Patsy?" 

"Think you just did." Patsy grunted. Disliking the womans oily voice. 

"Well, I wanted to ask you about one or two small matters." Jessie went on, wiping an invisible peice of lint from her suit jacket.

"No. You came here to tell me you remember our evening together.' Patsy said shortly. 'What else? I'm busy." 

If Jessie was surprised by Patsys forthright attitude she hid it well. Her eyes took on a calculating slant as she assessed Patsy. 

"Naturally, I'm keen to understand your intentions. I dislike crossed wires, my reputation of being trustworthy is essential to work and I would be... Most upset if a loose cog came free at an inopportune moment." Jessie finished her statement delicately and Patsy almost laughed. 

"What about Delia? I didn't hear anything about her in all that. Aren't you a little worried about her reaction should she ever find out what you get up to?" 

"Oh, Delia!' Jessie waved a hand airily, 'Delia will believe what I tell her to believe. You're story won't hold up against mine I assure you. She needs me, she'd be nothing without me and she knows it. My concern is purely professional... although; if you wanted to repeat the incident, with a agreement between us, that could also work." 

Patsy shuddered at the mere suggestion. Anger flared on behalf of Delia even though she knew she shouldn't. Patsy was an odd sort of knight in armour. Not least because she was part of the problem. 

"No. I think I'd rather shit in my hands and clap thanks and I wouldn't be too sure of Delia. She seems smart enough to know she can do better than something like you."

"I have friends in high places you know." Jessie said coldly, all pretence at civility gone now and Patsy suppressed a snort.

"High places? I don't doubt it. They say shit floats upstream.' Patsy sighed theatrically. 'Go home Jessie. Don't come back here like this again."

"Do you have any idea how badly I can ruin you?" Jessie threatened with all the pompous conviction of, in Patsys eyes, a terminally stupid person.

Patsy froze in mid turn, narrowing her eyes at the dark haired solicitor. She was having a shit day, deeply personal parts of her body were aching. She didn't have to take this. 

She changed movement in an odd jerk so that, all of a sudden, they were pressed very tightly together. Patsy crowded the woman, using her extra few inches of height to intimidate, allowing herself to enjoy the flash of uncertainty that scuttled across Jessies face at the alteration in expectations.

Patsy knew the type only too well. Pretty in a head turning kind of way and slightly more intelligent than average, not enough to be a rising star or anything, just enough to feel superior to everyone around her. Experience had taught Patsy that whenever such a character was pressed or backed into a corner they would shout and cry and stamp their feet and miraculously it worked. People let themselves be scared off. It was a nasty habit to get into and there was only one way to fight that kind of individual.

Up the anti. 

It was for this reason alone that Patsy did not ask, are you threatening me? She did not allow even the hint of submission in her stance. Another day she might not have wasted her time dealing with this jumped up little turd but today... Today, poor old Jessie had pulled the wrong tigers tail. Patsy almost relished the feeling of cold detached cruelty rising up inside her gut. She couldn't shout at everyone but she could definitely scare off Jessie.

Jessie didn't have a clue how much of bitch she was testing and boy, oh boy did she look like a target to Patsy at this minute. 

"You know something, I don't know as it goes.' Patsy snarled, smiling a smile full of too many teeth. 'How far are you willing to go I wonder? Shall we find out?- Constable Simms!" 

Chopsticks had been loitering by the doors, eyeing the scene up with interest. All coppers were nosey bastards, it was an occupational hazard and a bit of gossip would always speed along boring lunch breaks. His head snapped up at the sound of his name and gulped under the fury burning from Patsy. 

"Err, constable Mount?" He asked nervously and Patsy tipped him a sly wink behind Jessies head.

"Miss Smythe is instructing me on the finer subtleties of the law constable. Apparently, I knew nothing about the intricacies of legal policies. I must thank you for that Jessica.' She inclined her head graciously to the surprised Jessie and smacked a hand a little harder than necessary on the womans back. 'With such valuable lessons in mind Simms; I tender my immediate resignation." 

Patsy reached down to her belt and pried off her badge, striding to Chopsticks who was barely controlling a grin as he nodded authoritively and took it. 

"What?" Jessie exclaimed loudly in confusion. 

"Certainly constable.' Chopsticks did a kind of marionette clicking of his heels biting back a shit eating grin. No one liked solicitors on the force; they let the bad guys out because of loop holes and legal tricks. Besides; all cops loved playing silly buggers. Every rookie learned the games, it was built in to being a police officer where the humour tended to run to shades of dark. After long shifts mopping up bar fights, domestics and messy suicides you had to be able to laugh. Everyone understood that didn't they?

"Right Chopsticks, you're my witness for all of this. I am now just an average member of the community with good social standing. Would you agree?" 

"Well you're upright at least Mount." Someone called from the small gaggle of onlookers that had begun growing by the doors leading into the offices. 

"Now wait just one mome-" Jessie began, her face taking on the colour of porridge. Patsy interrupted her. 

"And as a member of the public I can defend myself from threats in any manner that is justifiable. Is that correct ms Smythe?" 

"Hang on, you can't ju-"

"I'll take that as a yes." Patsy went on smoothly. 'In which case I would like to use my new found knowledge of the law to beat seven shades of shit out of you miss Smythe." 

Patsy advanced on the woman smiling wildly. Jessie stumbled backwards her arms raised protectively.

"Wait! You can't do this, it would be assault- I could-" Jessie was flapping, tumbling into shock. She inhabited a world where any misdemeanor could be resolved with enough words. She'd probably never been hit her entire life. Patsy had. Patsy came from a different world and Jessie was a traveller lost.

"Have me arrested?' Patsy leered. Jessie wasn't in the big city anymore, this was back country and the rules were played out differently here. 'Have me dragged down to the cells? I don't think so, I'm a member of the public in a petty domestic. Shall we go for leather? There might be paperwork though when one of these fine officers take us both in, might be explanations written down? Things we don't want aired to everyone and I promise you everyone will read it. Everyone will know. It could be messy... Now, I wouldn't know too much about big picture stuff, not being as clever as you Ms Smythe. I'm just a mere mortal orbiting your sun. The choice is yours." 

Jessie was still backing away but had to stop as she brushed against solid wall. Her eyes darted back and forth from the huddle of watching cops to Patsy waiting half bent over with clenched fists. Patsys colleagues had folded their arms, an impenetrable barrier behind her and Patsy watched the realisation sink down deep on Jessie.

Patsy did not stand alone, Jessie was out gunned and outmanned. She wouldn't win any prizes here.

"Alright. Alright. No paperwork... I'm sorry." The apology was half arsed but Patsy took it, knowing how much it would cost the woman.

"Well,' She said loudly, standing straighter and letting her arms fall down. 'Thats all sorted then. Chopsticks!" 

Chopsticks obliged Patsy by stepping forward smartly still holding her badge in his open palm. 

"Yes Mount." 

"I wish to join your illustrious police force with all its wonderous opportunities for progression and pension package." Patsy said almost managing to keep a straight face as she said it.

"Any experience working on the front lines miss? Understanding of inter personal skills and basic criminal law?" Chopsticks asked, his head cocked as though considering Patsy hard. Patsy nearly rolled her eyes hoping there wasn't a God of over acting, the man would probably be struck down from above if there was.

"As much understanding that can be garnered from ten bloody years light study constable." Patsy grumbled.

"Very well,' Chopsticks said quickly. 'then we're pleased to take you on and immediately elevate you to the position of Detective Constable miss Mount. On behalf of myself and the others we wish you luck in all your future endeavours."

"Yeah, you, me and the door handle Chopsticks." Patsy muttered clipping her warrant card back on her belt moodily. 

Jessie was watching the exchange through slitted eyes like the cat that has not only found that the mouse its been stalking is in fact a raccoon but also that the raccoon lives in a tree with a large family of angry bears. 

"This is bull shit. You can't take the piss out me." She hissed despite every item of fact available showing the contrary. Patsy raised her eyebrows.

"Ms Smythe we, in the police, do not extract urine. It's messy and requires court approval. We just like principles. Makes the world go round."

Jessie rocked on her heels, her mouth shrivelling to the likeness of a ducks bottom as she chewed the words she was at least clever enough not to say. Patsy didn't bother to watch. Winning was enough. 

She walked over to the counter casually where Alice was glaring at her as though Patsy had personally crapped on her bonfire. 

"What?" Patsy said in an undertone as Jessie stalked past towards the door. 

"Another one bites the dust eh Pats. You should come with a warning." Alice said quietly as she sunk back down onto her swivel chair primly. Patsy bit back a retort. Alice had her reasons for disliking her and in this case Patsy didn't have a leg to stand on. 

"Why would I need that? Surely words got round by now and if not you'll be sure to tell them." She replied sourly, looking down at the booking in sheet more for something to do than any real interest in the contents. 

"Are you sleeping with her or her Mrs? Or both?" Alice enquired archly. Patsys eyes looked upwards briefly to find Alice who was staring at her, face full of malice. 

"Don't know what you're implying Alice." She said briskly, looking back down at the book quickly and turning the page a few thirty back for the effect the movement gave. 

"I don't suppose you'll even have the decency to tell the poor woman who you're screwing over about all of this." Alice went on as the officers who had gathered began to disperse off now that the entertainment seemed to be over.

"Has it ever occured to you that on occasion I'm the one who gets screwed over?" Patsy asked irritably. Alice merely sniffed in response, the wheels on her seat squeaking on the linoleum.

No. Patsy thought, answering herself. Alice probably didn't. Girls with matches in forests sprang to mind again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that went on longer than I thought it would... Ahh well. Poor old Pats eh? Don't worry though, we'll find her someone who treats her right soon. 
> 
> Slightly earlier update as its fireworks night and I intend to imbibe as Phyllis would say. Stay cool people.
> 
> SB x


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come stop your crying, it'll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight.
> 
> Phil Collins. You'll be in my heart.

The park half an hour away from Micks flats was fairly ram packed at this time of day. Various embodiments of toddlers were currently running around the open play field, sitting in patches of mud and leaping from apparatus with absolute abandonment. Mothers and fathers sat feet away from their kids, chatting, looking tired or just taking the small reprieve with good grace and sipping coffees out of cheap paper cups.

From Patsys current vantage point, lent against a line of leafy hedgerow, it struck her how sticky children could be. It was odd really; in clean clothing, in a clean field, with no sticky items in hands reach and some children still managed to glisten with inexplicable stickiness. Where did it come from? Was it an internal goo? Did all humans produce it at a young age and grow out of it?

Patsy wasn't entirely sure and had enough sense not to ask anyone... but seriously, it was disgusting.

She'd somehow managed to bumble through the rest of the day after extracating herself from the front desk and Alices sharp, accusing gaze. Her temper had been hanging on a thread thoughout the remaining shift and she'd held it together mainly by focusing entirely on her computer screen. The rest of the team, more than used to her dark moods, wisely gave her a wide berth. Even Dyer, who had been sulking when Patsy returned after hearing that Fred had been released, had taken one look at her thunderous features and decided not to comment on her rustled appearance.

Patsys neck had bruised around the collar and her legs ached something chronic.

Dyer, reading the signs, had also decided that today would be a cleaning day. Patsy had ignored his various rustlings and cursing as he employed his favoured technique of filing; i.e scraping everything into a black bin bag and dumping it somewhere in the building where a cleaner would come across it. Albeit a totally lazy approach to a basic professional function Patsy approved of the light now filtering onto her desk with each mountains removal and had only intervened once when Dyer, in an odd attempt at civility, had scraped Patsys own paperwork into the bag. Distracted as she was she'd only noticed as her unopened envelopes began disappearing from the space beside her elbow.

With a snort she'd dragged them back from the mans reach and shoved the missives into her handbag. She'd do them at home.

Not as though she had anything else to do at the moment.

Trixie had been unreachable all day and Patsy hoped this was because some terrible epidemic had struck Poplar and not, to pluck a possibility totally at random of course, because her friend was otherwise engaged with the task of bludgeoning her husband and schoolteachers to death.

Val hadn't text either. Patsy decided, after a few hours restless contemplation, that this was a good thing. She'd meant what she said and while it hurt that Val seemed to have taken the rejection at face value it was for the best. Definitely.

Even so, Patsy had been twitchy all afternoon and by three o clock she'd had enough. After powering her computer down, having achieved very little in regards to her case load, she'd requested time owing from Ursula. The Boss had agreed eventually with the caveat Patsy sign her name on the Sergeants sheet. Or, at least, that was Patsys interpretation of the womans silent finger pointing at the wall when she'd asked.

Delia had text her too when Patsy had got into her car. This, in itself, had caused a worrying amount of butterflies to set up camp in Patsys stomach as she'd taken in the newly saved name on her phones screen. The message however had been more puzzling. Sadly Delia hadn't segued into afternoon flirtations and the text had just been an odd query about police contact.

"Hey? Were you trying to reach me? Had a missed call from the station. Hope we're still on for tomorrow."

Patsy had puzzled over this as she'd weaved through school traffic and eventually come to the optimistic conclusion it could just be a ploy. Delia could just be checking in, making sure the plan was still on and... would she though? It sort of tallied but even so Patsy didn't think they'd made that big a splash.

Although, the day was young and Patsy, for the moment, was quite without relationship baggage. She should have banners made or something.

Patsy had chosen to sit in the park for two reasons. One; Fern picked Seppie up from Nursery around this time and would therefore most likely be available to grab for a chat and two; Patsy really wanted to sit somewhere where nobody knew her. In this anonymous little park she didn't have to pretend she had everything together.

Quite frankly, everyone needed a bit of park time now and then.

Patsy waited around an hour staring at nothing really and drawing concerned looks from other parents that she didn't bother acknowledging. After this time she wondered if she'd missed Fern somehow. Probably, the girls were already home and Patsy wasn't sure how to get around that problem.

She could go to Micks flat but Allies complaint had told her firmly that she wouldn't be all that welcome. Standing up and stretching her legs ruefully Patsy had just begun to make her way back towards the car park when something hard and squealing collided hard with her waist, knocking the wind out of her and nearly throwing both Patsy and the miscreant to the ground.

Through watery eyes Patsy thought she spotted Fern way off in the background before a brown hand blurred just below eye level.

" **Red**!"

Patsy groaned and tried to focus on the quick animated hands of her attacker as she breathed in raggedly at what was unmistakably a very happy Seppie.

Seppies head was parallel to her stomach and the girls entire weight had collided with, and felt as though it had quite possibly displaced, Patsys kidneys.

" **Curly**."

Patsy waved her hand weakly as the little girl stared up at her. Gappy teethed and wearing stained clothes the child seemed genuinely delighted to see Patsy. A rare thing in these parts.

 **"Red! We going to see ducks! We got seeds because bread make ducks sick Flower says. Flower going to buy me an ice cream with chocolate flake and I'm going to eat it with the ducks! I want to wear my wellies with ducks on but flower says it's too hot. I like my duck wellies, I say I want them** -"

Patsy nodded on as Seppies hands nearly blurred with excitement of finding someone else to talk to. It was very clear to Patsy, as the barrage of information went on, that her immediate future would undoubtedly entail lots of ducks and quite possibly a queue to an ice cream van.

Fern had spotted Patsy now and Patsy smiled over Seppies shoulder as the older girl neared looking gangly and pasty, in holey jeans and too tight t-shirt, compared to the other children milling around.

"Patsy! What are you doing here?" Fern, like Seppie, seemed truly pleased by the meeting and Patsy smiled genially at the two of them. Seppie, twigging that Patsys attention had divided gave an audible hmpph and turned to see what Patsy was looking at. She wiggled excitedly as she saw Fern close by.

" **Flower! I told Red you didn't let me wear my wellies."**

Patsy grinned at the fact sibling relationships never changed no matter and watched as annoyance danced across Ferns face.

 **"Its hot. No wellies!"** Fern signed jerkily, squinting at her sister in exasperation. Seppie pouted in response and tugged at Patsys hand to draw her closer.

" **When we live with Red I can wear my wellies all day. She's bigger than you.** " Seppie declared firmly, sticking out her tongue towards her sister defiantly. Patsy felt her stomach drop and stared at Fern accusingly with suddenly narrowed eyes.

"You told her?" She bit out in frustration. Fern flushed and looked at her shoes for a second.

"Mentioned it once- but it's not my fault, she's like a human lie detector. She's an evil genius at getting information."

"She's four,' Patsy observed blandly, 'what did she do? Threaten to break your knee caps?"

"She just asked me all sweet looking and...' Fern shrugged only half apologetic. 'I had to tell her, didn't I? You're getting us out, you promised. It's going to be alright now. She's really excited to tell you the truth."

Excited seemed to be an understatement for Seppie. Her little feet were bobbing her body like a can dropped into the sea and Patsy didn't think Seppie was the only one come to that, something big brewed in Ferns voice. Hope.

Seppie; pouting now as neither of her companions were looking at her, tugged insistently on Patsys hand again.

" **When we live with you can I have ducks red?"** This question seemed to have been weighing heavily on the kids mind for some time and she surveyed Patsy owlishly, eyes wide and serious. Patsy paused, feeling small parts of her curl into a ball in terror.

This was not good. This was all kinds of bad actually. It also dawned on her in this moment how there wasn't a word for Errr in sign.

There bloody well should be Patsy thought sharply. Patsy was going to invent one when she had a spare moment.

 **"I don't know. Ducks... You want ice cream?** " Patsy hazarded numbly.

This seemed to do the trick and Seppie nodded appreciatively as Patsy reached into her jacket for change as the three of them walked slowly towards the van on the hill with its gaudy stickers and ever present ten minute line of squabbling children and tired parents. Fern seemed to have been watching closely because she mistepped suddenly half way to their destination, staring at Patsys pocket. Patsy looked down self consciously and realised a picture of Winnifred was poking out from where her hand had grabbed money.

"You okay?" Patsy asked Fern in confusion. The girl was frowning like she was trying to work something complicated out.

"Yeah... Who's that woman?" Fern seemed perplexed.

"The nun, the one from the beach, why? You know her?" Patsy asked surprised. Fern didn't attend Poplar primary and Allie and Mick were hardly church goers. They might have crossed paths by accident but there wasn't any reason for them to be acquaintances... Even so, Fern was nodding an affirmative. Patsy waited for an explanation.

"She... She came to the flat a few weeks ago, said she was collecting for church but when Allie told her to get lost she asked about the men... The new ones. Seemed really interested. Mick came out in the end. Someone killed her?"

Patsy stared, cogs whirring in her brain above neon signs. She forced herself to stay calm as they stepped into the queue.

"We think someone did, yes. And she was around here a few weeks ago? So... Weekend? Or work day? What time?" Patsy couldn't prevent an edge in her voice.

Fern squinted in concentration seeming to understand she'd stumbled onto something important.

"It was a Friday. Two weeks ago." She confirmed seriously and Patsy sucked her cheek.

Five days before the murder.

"She didn't say anything else? Try and think Fern it might be helpful."

Fern paused, rocking her head before shaking it, looking resigned but certain.

"No. They ran her out before she could say anything else and I didn't see her again. You think it means anything?"

Patsy hesitated thinking about her conversation with Ursula. Could it be she was right? Had Winnifred found out something, asked the wrong people the wrong questions? Could this be a hit from the new gang in town?

If it was then it was a high stake game they were playing. Killing other factions in the criminal community was one thing but nuns?

"I think it highlights a theory...' Patsy ventured distantly. 'Thanks kid.'

"I can help you with all your cases when we live together... You won't know how you lived without us I'll bet." Fern said hopefully and Patsy returned to the present with a bang.

Time to discuss the elephant in the room then.

"I spoke with Sue today." Patsy said from the corner of her mouth to Fern who blinked at her.

"And?" Fern said tightly, her face glowing now with some internal fire. Patsy cast a quick look at Seppie who was busy signing to her shoes contentedly, Patsy caught the sign for Red repeatedly.

"You left a few details out for me kid, you can come home with me anytime? When were you thinking of dropping that information on me? It might have been helpful."

Patsy tried not to accuse even as guilt suffused her. This whole thing was a total fucking mess. Fern blushed and bit her lip looking all of a sudden exactly like a fifteen year old girl grown up too fast.

"I thought if you knew then you wouldn't help us... You still will? Won't you? You won't leave Seppie behind, the social don't care, they'll leave her to rot. I can't let that happen, she's like my baby or something." Ferns voice was small as she worried at her lip. Patsy felt her shoulders soften and, without really thinking about it, she pulled Fern under her arm.

"Course I will.' She said gruffly feeling Seppies shoulder bump against her leg insistently and knowing there wasn't any other answer she could give. 'You two come as a package, I know that and I promise I'll do everything I can but it's not as easy as it sounds getting you both out. There's paperwork, courts, all that stuff. So here.' Looking left and right Patsy slyly passed the phone she'd bought the night before into Ferns hand. 'They won't move Seppie out until we prove what's going on. Next time someone turns up at yours you text me on this and I'll be there quick as I can. We need evidence to speed up the decision from the courts... unless you think Allie and Mick will just sign her over?"

Fern and Patsy gazed at one another for a moment considering this option. They both shook their heads regretfully at the same time.

"No. Stupid idea." Patsy said sadly. Fern snorted and reached to brush the top of Seppies head.

"Micks not even her dad you know.' Fern burst out, sullen faced. 'Allie says he's mine but who knows... Seppie was so excited when I told her about all of this. She can't wait to get out of there." Fern stalled suddenly, her lip jutting out sadly. Patsy looked down at the bullet head of September bobbing at her hip and blew out a resigned breath.

"Yes... about that. Can we not tell everyone straight away. Allies put a complaint in about me about stealing children and besides... Seppies four, she doesn't need any more crap. You shouldn't tell her everything straight away."

"You think because she's deaf she can't deal with stuff? She's not weak you know." Fern said brittley, flairing up immediately at the percieved slight. Patsy shook the teen slightly in admonishment.

"I don't think she's weak and I don't care about the deaf thing. I'm saying it because she's four.... Just let her be a kid okay? She deserves to focus on ducks. It goes quick."

Fern paused, settling as quickly as she'd started up and looked away hiding her face for a moment.

"Okay... sorry, I didn't mean-" She started sounding muffled. Patsy interrupted her.

"It's fine. Don't worry kid. It'll be alright, you've got me on your team, lucky you eh?"

The queue hadn't been all that long really. Patsy paid for three 99's and managed half of her own before Seppie decided to check it for poison. The good news was that it wasn't lethal, the bad news was that Seppies investigation had taken the desert down to the cone. Patsy waved it back amused when the little girl tried to hand her the remaining stubb sheepishly.

Both the girls were thin, both had wolfed down their food as though they were starving. Maybe they were. Patsy made a mental note to learn a few more easy meals. She had a feeling it would take a while for them to learn food wasn't a luxury if this wacky plan managed to work out how it was supposed to.

Seppie was four and tall for her age but her legs could've made a chicken feel fat, the thigh no wider than Patsys wrist and Ferns chin was so sharp she could be used as a glass cutter in a bank heist. They both needed regular food for starters and after that someone competent to raise them.

Patsy didn't feel particularly confident about herself being shoved into that description but Seppie didn't seem to harbour any doubts as she reached to clutch Patsys hand tightly, skipping every few feet to keep up with her older companions longer legs.

They went to see the ducks in the end.

Seppie, completely oblivious, countered their slow footfalls with excited grunts as they neared the destination.

It wasn't much of a park truth be told. Most of the money around here went on beach stuff because that was what brought the punters in every year but someone, possibly long dead now, had dug out a deep hundred foot hole and filled it with reeds and algae ridden water. A little island in the center housed a small colony of mallards, their green and brown heads flashed amongst the reeds and over the path as they pecked aimlessly at specks of this and that.

Without conversation Fern pulled a very crumpled plastic bag out of her back pocket and passed it reverentially to Seppie who took it with all the ceremony of an ancient priest accepting a human sacrifices beating heart.

Patsy and Fern took a seat at a bench as Seppie waded through the stream of ducks, waving skinny handfuls of seeds at them, apparently intent on becoming some kind of Duck overlord by the end of the afternoon if the hefty throws was anything to go by. Some ducks managed not to lose eyes in the ensuing scrabble but it was a close cut thing. Fern perched on the edge of the bench, chewing at her nails anxiously. Patsy watched both of the kids for a moment, seething in self doubt.

This felt wrong.

She'd said she hadn't planned to steal Allies kids but that didn't ring true at this point... There was a mother to consider in all of this. Patsy rubbed at her temples distractedly as she pondered options.

"A new man came to the flat yesterday." Fern cut through Patsys internal dialogue quietly. She was watching Seppie stomping away near the ducks with a blank expression, her hands still pressed limply against her lips.

"What happened? You guys weren't hurt." Patsy asked swiftly.

"No." Fern wouldn't meet Patsys eye as she spoke and concern clawed its way down Patsys spine.

"Did he try anything this bloke? Scare you or Seppie?" Patsy questioned patiently. Fern shrugged half heartedly.

"Asked me about you. Said we shouldn't talk to police anymore. Said there'd be trouble if Mick blabbed stuff he wasn't supposed to."

"Another Albanian?"

"No, English. Fat guy. Old. Tried to be menacing and all that but he looked too soft to me. Wanted to Lord it up, feet on the table kind of man. Allie treated him like he was a king or something so I know she was scared."

"Scared? Why, you sure he's not been round before?"

Would this get worse? The hitherto dormant protective urge swelling in Patsys gut told her it probably would as she tracked eyes down both kids. She didn't see any bruising. Fern answered with a dull shake of her head.

"Nope, not when I've been there. Came to see Mick mostly anyway. Went to his room after Allie made him a drink and shut the door. It made Allie skittish though and her and Mick had an almost argument after he left. She shouldn't have pissed him off when he was high, it's always worse then. Mick's broken her ribs I think, she said she's okay but I know she's not. Stamped on her head too, she's all bruised again, her face... I think he'll kill her one day." Fern spoke completely calmly as though she was commenting on the weather. This was her normal Patsy reminded herself carefully but the quiet acceptance was troubling.

"She's still your mother." Patsy said softly and watched the girls lips twitch reflexively.

"I hate her." Fern whispered through her fingers, eyes blazing. Patsy didn't believe it but didn't argue the point. Fern would need to make her own ammends with these demons. You couldn't force that sort of thinking and Patsy wouldn't anyway. Experience had already taught her how bad it hurt.

"She's not a bad person kid. What would you do if she left? Would you really want to stick with me? You could stay as a family that way." The idea was forming in the back of Patsys head. A long shot but not impossible.

"She doesn't give a shit about us.' Fern dismissed angrily, 'We're just money. Probably won't miss us when we do go. The only person she cares about is Mick. She won't leave him... I want to kill him." Ferns cheeks were white, pale and her lips pressed together tightly with barely bottled rage. Patsy recognised all of it. Every damn peice and hated the way these things went.

Her mothers face through shards of orange tinged glass shot through her brain. Stupid thought.

The problem was that Patsy wasn't a social worker, she wasn't a by stander and she understood one simple fact; the world saw everything as boxes and in their minds a mother, a daughter and a father all fitted together to make a family. That wasn't always the case. It hadn't been for her and it wasn't for these children.

"I think she'll miss you. She's still your mother, I can't be that." Patsy cautioned gently and Fern swivelled jerkily to finally stare at Patsy.

"You would feed us I know that.' Fern said shakily. 'You'll have heating that works so I don't have to wear all my clothes at the same time. You won't flirt with my friend's dads or blow some guy on a tape that gets round to everyone I know for a line of coke. You won't let guys in the house that beat us all up. You won't let someone break your ribs or tell him to hit me next time because I deserve it too. You won't ignore Seppie. You won't do all those things, so fine, don't be my mum. Be better than her."

Patsy rocked back slightly at the fury of Fern and wavered before nodding.

"I can do that. I can try." Patsy said hoarsely and Fern sniffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and looking back at Seppie who was shaking the now empty bag looking slightly crestfallen as her duck army mutineed to the water.

"I think you're hard on yourself you know. I mean, it's not like we're hard work or anything."

Patsy was saved from answering that particular stick of dynamite by Seppie, who returned sans seeds, looking faintly regretful towards the scattered ducks and clambering onto Patsys lap so they were facing each other.

" **Red I really think we should have ducks at your house**." Seppie signed seriously and Patsy laughed.

 **"I don't have animals**." She signed back still grinning and Seppie cocked an eyebrow.

" **Before me, you don't have children Red. Houses change**." Seppie observed with a rather gappy smile.

Patsy rolled her eyes at a four year olds perspective, although... from the mouths of babes and all that.

\--

It was another hour before they all walked towards the flats. Throughout Seppie remained close to Patsy like a limpet; quizzing Patsy about her prospective room (she wanted walls pink or purple but not blue because blue was, contrary to all observed facts regarding this, poo coloured) and between them they bartered how many vegetables she would be expected to eat per meal. The concept of three a day took a while to sink in for both girls.

Seppie seemed to be quite into planning it seemed, the thought of escape clearly weighed heavily in her young mind and her all consuming interest in Patsys home made Patsy uncomfortable. There was so much unquestionable faith coming her way it was terrifying.

They walked through the village together. Seppie tucked between her sister and Patsy, swinging on every other step happily, occasionally breaking away to speak but clearly content with the afternoons events.

They made it to the outskirts of the flats before Patsy gently released the little girls hand and turned to them both, signing and talking so they both understood.

"When you go home you don't tell Allie about this. You let me deal with this. You work with me, yes?"

Patsy eyed Fern especially carefully as Seppie swelled with pride at having her very own secret and nodded. Fern glanced at the flats her eyes glinting with the threat of smothered tears.

"I wish we could just go with you." Fern whispered as she squeezed Seppies hand convulsively. Patsy paused and reached to clasp the girls shoulder, speaking far more confidently than she felt.

"Soon kid, I promise you. Remember the phone, I'm never out of reach, I'll be there quick as a flash. You keep it out of sight and-"

"You!"

Patsy was interrupted by a kind of ringing bellow that seemed to stem from lungs ripping open. She whipped round, her arms flowering open to cover the kids without realising she was doing so, scanning the surroundings warily for danger. The voice had echoes. It had promises and rage and...

"Allie" Patsy didn't shout quite as loud as Allie had as she spotted the woman storming in their direction. Allies nostrils should have had fumes pouring out of them and her fists were clenched tightly at her sides. Patsy cast a worried glance at Seppie and Fern. Seppie couldn't see what was going on but she'd spotted the tension in Ferns face and was hovering by her sisters arm fretfully signing hurried questions.

"You! Get away from my kids!" Allie was red faced, she'd walked fast to get here, possibly too fast and sweat stuck her hair in drab dangles against her forehead. She looked ready to strike Patsy down where she stood and Patsy took the percieved threat seriously, spreading her stance and holding her hands at waist level in a gesture of readiness.

As the snarling mother drew level Patsy sucked in a hiss. Fern hadn't quite done the nights beating justice; Allies face looked like it had been caved in with a shovel. Her eyes were a livid, swollen blue and the skin swelled inches from the sockets, stretching the flesh obscenely. Her lips were split from bow to nostril and her ear looked oddly placed as though someone had tried to rip it off with partial success.

Saliva flecked her chin and Patsy couldn't see teeth anymore in the mouth. Allies words seemed to be comprised of only gums and spit now which spewed from her like bullets.

When Allie came to a panting halt, Patsy noted she wore only one shoe and the way she stood, half leaning to the right seemed to tally with Ferns assessment of broken ribs. The woman looked a total wreck.

There was a mat in her hair, big enough to be visible through the mess of greasy strands and Patsy was willing to bet there was a cut still bleeding there. She was surprised Allie could still stand just from the amount of fist she'd taken.

She needed a hospital not an argument in the street and Patsy relaxed. Allie wouldn't be able to fight anyone in this state and stepped forward to steady her. Worried she should call an ambulance or something.

"Allie! What the hell happened to you? You need to get to a hospital, did Mick do this?" Patsys shock was only partially faked. No one won when their opponent was already so clearly defeated. Allie snorted and brown sludge shot from her nostrils onto the ground. Blood congealing in the nasal cavity.

"You've got some nerve, coming round here trying steal my kids out from under me you childless dyke."

Patsy lent away, mostly to avoid the flecks of raining spittle, biting back a nervous smirk. Unhelpful facial tics aside the blow was a definite low one.

"Allie,' Patsy started warningly, 'let's not do this out here, why don't we go inside and-"

"I'm not having you in my home you pervert.' Allies rage was rendered pathetically impotent by her lack of teeth but she'd committed now and a crow bar wouldn't shift her off course. A fat finger poked Patsys chest. 'Corrupting my kids, trying to turn them against me with your hoity toity ways. You think you're better than me just because you've got money and stuff. But I've got your card. Your sort shouldn't even be near children, you're unnatural!" There was a vein throbbing somewhere amidst the bruises on Allies face and Patsy tried to ignore the low grade annoyance at petty insults.

She needed to remember she was the one encroaching here. Patsy was the one who'd betrayed Allie. This was justified in a way.

Behind her Patsy sensed Fern reaching to scoop Seppie into her arms. Seppie was making low noises of concern she didn't even realise she was immiting. Patsy needed to atleast attempt damage control here, she didn't want the kids to see a fist fight. They'd seen enough of that for one lifetime.

"Allie... Come on, you need medical assistance.' Patsy said kindly, ignoring the way Allies finger was prodding into her chest still. 'The kids don't need to see this, I'm not your enemy here."

"Enemy!' Allies eyes bulged alarmingly and Patsy worried the skin around them might burst a vessel. 'You're the enemy I didn't even know I had, you... You whore of Babylon."

Patsy rocked back. Biblical insults? That was a new one.

"Don't be ridiculous,' She said brusquely stepping forward and deftly shooing away the pointing finger. 'I've never even been to Babylon. Come on, lets go inside, you look like you need help. Talk to me, we can sort something out."

"Sort something out,' Allie repeated shrilly, 'the only thing I want sorted out is you. Micks put the word out Pats, you're a dead woman, stealing an innocent womans babies. You're sick."

"Don't threaten me Allie. It's a stupid move take it from me and I don't want to steal your kids I want to help them. I want to help you if you'll just listen for a m-"

"I'll threaten anyone who gets in my way. Those kids are mine and we don't need anymore of your help. They don't want nothing more to do with you, you hear me? You stay away from us!" Allie was swaying alarmingly and Patsy was certain she was close to a dead faint.

Poor bitch.

"Don't talk for me Allie, I told you already I want to live with her. We both do. We're not going to put up with your shit anymore, Seppie needs a mother not doped up to the eyeballs." Fern had stepped forward to stand beside Patsy Seppie balanced on a hip and was gazing at her mother in utter disgust.

Allie swelled like a bull frog, sucking in air in a great wave as her chest expanded. Her lips thinning to show bloody gums.

"You!' She spat at Fern, 'get in the flat and hope I don't let your father teach you a lesson about loyalty. This is your family and you best just get used to it!"

"I'm leaving,' Fern said flatly, her cheeks so white she looked bloodless. 'Might not be today but I'll go, Seppie will go and you'll be left where you choose to stay. With him. I'm not afraid of Mick or you and twenty years from now, if you make it that long, you'll look back on this moment and I hope you cry. I hope you regret every shit decision you've made because, Allie, it's all your fault. Everything that's happened is because of you. I choose Patsy, we both do and it's only a matter of time."

Allie stared at her daughter in silent fury before turning to Patsy in despair.

"You!' She screamed at Patsy, 'you did this, putting ideas into their heads. You ought to be disgusted with yourself, you're a disgrace."

Fern shook her head sadly and then jostled as Seppie, who'd been watching the exchange with her mouth in a perfect O shape, squealed to reach and stroke Patsys cheek across the slim divide.

" **Red?** ' Her little timid hands framed questions in the air, **'I go home with you soon? Promise?"**

Patsy merely nodded at the girl. Allie stared at her youngest in confusion. She'd never learned to sign, never been able to make the words stick in her memory but the meaning was clear enough. With a yell she strode forward and ripped Seppie from Ferns slack grip by the wrist. Seppie cried out as her limb was stretched and she fell to the ground with her arm pointing upwards painfully. Fern let out a snarl of borrowed pain as Patsy lunged forward without thinking.

Allies grip was weak and it was a simple task to break it completely by shifting the thumb. Seppie wrenched her arm back with a growl as the hold was loosened and curled up at Patsys feet whimpering.

"If you do that again Al, I'll take you down the station myself. Don't touch the kids because you're angry at me. Understand that some lines shouldn't be crossed at least." Patsys vision was tinging faintly red at the corners and some basic self survival instinct seemed to tap Allie on the shoulder. Wisely, the woman stepped back, her hands shaking as she glared at her family.

"She shouldn't be using those stupid hand signs to you anyway. Needs to learn to talk properly. Probably would if you hadn't interferred. She's nothing but ignorant, bet she hears just fine." Allie gabbled angrily at them all as though she could make it true that way. Patsy didn't bother to answer as she bent down and picked Seppie back up. The girl pressed her face into Patsys neck, clinging on tightly.

"Fern' Patsy decided to direct her words to the teenager who was glowering at her mother, sheer hatred plastered across her sharp features, 'take Seppie inside. I'll be back soon and remember what I've said."

Fern took a long time to reply, her body a rigid line of defiance beside Patsy but eventually she unbent enough to take her sister. Patsy felt each of Seppies fingers tightening as Fern pried them away.

" **Soon**." Patsy signed quickly just so Seppie could see. Seppie didn't answer, she wailed plaintively as Fern ferried her towards the flats. The high noise fading as the sisters trudged home.

Patsy and Allie glared at one another for a few moments longer until Allie broke it by spitting a thick globule of phlegm at Patsys feet and turned to follow her children, still limping.

Patsy watched until all three had dissapeared from sight before backing away. From the balcony of the flat she just about made out the shape of Mick leaning over the parapet smoking a cigarette. Evidently he'd been watching the free show from his high vantage point.

King of his castle.

-

It was late. Much later.

The steady sound of water pitter pattering its way into Patsys bright, porcelain bath tub at a snails pace drummed the air while the tiny room fogged window to wall with thick, cleansing steam. This was an up point of living alone, Patsy reflected lightly as she perched precariously on the edge of the bath; stepping into water so hot it equates to lava and not having to explain why you looked like a lobster to anyone else when you got out.

They should put it on leaflets or something.

Lazily, she trailed her finger tips across the shimmering water, frowning as her reflection rippled and distorted where the circles flooded out and further out until the motioned died away. Echoes.

In her other hand she clasped a glass of, given the rooms warmth, now room temperature wine. She didn't drink it often but today... Today she could probably bathe in the stuff.

The kids. Val. Jessie. Allie. The kids. All the faces, the anger and the resentments and the hope were churning through her brain like she was standing in front of a very fast merry go round. There was so much to think about, so much to do and right now... she wasn't quite certain she knew how to fix any of it.

The kids? Allie wasn't going to sign them over voluntarily to Patsy in this lifetime or any other come to that. The system was weighted on keeping them in the family home and unless Patsy could conjure up some immediate looming disaster that would necessitate their removal she was stuck. It was a rather depressing blow to be helpless in the face of two children who asked her so pleadingly for something she was willing but not allowed to give.

On the other hand, was she the right person to answer this call? Was she, Patience Mount, even capable of doing a better job of raising them than Allie? Patsy thought darkly about her own mothers poor examples regarding parenting; too weak and stupid to defend her own children. Unwilling to protect them, to leave a desperate situation and all for what; Fear? Love?

These thoughts made Patsys skin crawl, the bare flesh of her arms speckled with goosebumps. Love hadn't existed in the commune, only a vague reflection of the real thing. It had been enough for Elizabeth maybe but not for Patsy and now.. What skills did Patsy really have when you got down to it? What experience at mothering?

She thought about the morning with Val and squirmed uncomfortably. Surely someone who aspired to be a mother should have a better grip on relationships than that. Maybe leaving the matter be would be for the best. Maybe the kids were dodging a bullet they didn't even realise was there...

And then Patsy thought about Seppies round, trusting face. Her unsettling certainty that Patsy would be her saviour. It was hard not to want to answer that much belief, hard not to want to become something more for that face.

The bath water was high enough now with steam spiralling from the water. Patsy shucked off her clothes onto the floor in a neatish pile and slid beneath the burning fluid with a damp sigh. From beyond the slightly open window Patsy could hear the far off heartbeat of the tide as it dragged its foamy currents closer in land inch by steady inch.

That's what she wanted to be, Patsy decided tiredly as she idly rubbed a shiny spot of tile above the taps with her toe, just like the sea. Dependable, constant and resilient.

Sadly, if the sorry state of affairs with Val was anything to go by, Patsy still had some work to do on that score. Still... She had done the right thing. Perhaps Val wouldn't see it that way but it was the only option. It was time for Patsy to try and get her life in order, time to attempt to delve deeper into normality and who knew? Maybe one day Patsy might actually find out what everyone always meant when the belated over commitment. Maybe she could be loved? Maybe she could love.

Her mind swerved inexplicably to the grey, no mans land area of Delia Busby at these thoughts... Patsy still wasn't sure what to do about tomorrow, how to play it. Maybe she could offer Delia another ride home? Maybe the pub?

Then what?

As much as Patsy disliked Jessie she doubted it was in any way honourable to make tracks on another relationship. Was that something the new improved, getting her shit together, Patsy should do?

Probably not.

Patsy paused as she dipped further into the water so her aching neck warmed a few degrees, chewing at her stray thoughts... Delia could still be a friend though couldn't she? Lord knew Patsy didn't have all that many friends and the woman was interesting. Not just attractive, she had something about her that made Patsy think-

Smash!

Patsy jumped. Spluttering as she accidently swallowed a mouthful of water she sat up, swivelling round to stare at the closed door of the bathroom, only just discernible through the heavy curtains of steam. The dull, everyday part of her brain told her to relax; something must have just fallen, maybe a cat or similar, there was no reason to worry... While the police section of brain hissed at her that she didn't have any pets and she damn well wouldn't leave anything to just fall for nothing.

It had been a loud crash too. Something heavy from the resonating sound. And now... Was that footsteps? Someone breaking a window?

Patsy lay stock still for a few moments, her ears straining to listen for any other noises, her stomach seemed to have migrated north to sit in her mouth as the water lapped harmlessly against her body. Her heart was a jack knife in her chest.

Nothing followed, no noises, just endless amounts of taunting nothingness and eventually Patsy had to concede she'd over reacted.

It was the days toils taking their toll.

Patsy couldn't decide if she was being paranoid or plain stupid. What she did now know though was that she didn't much feel like laying in a bath anymore. All of a sudden the relaxing habit felt far too vulnerable... almost like the old days.

After the commune it had taken a very long time for her to stand proximity to large quantities of water. She'd fought hard when the nuns had tried to make her wash, the only sound she'd been able to create had been sobs. She'd been convinced someone would be waiting to trap her all over again.

She thought she'd long shaken the old fears off but it seemed not.

Ruefully, more than a little embarrassed for herself, she dunked her head under the water hurriedly, scraping her hair back out of her face with unsteady fingers before-

Sct. Schhht.

Patsy froze, water steaming over her face, muscles locking down defensively as she became aware of faint noises like nails trailing over the wood of the door feet away.

Not in her mind. Real.

Fear prickled across her pinking skin as she sat up straighter, the water sloshing loudly, washing over the side and tumbling unheeded to drip onto the floor.

The noise stopped abruptly as she cleared her throat shakily and cast her vision around the room.

Weapon, find something now.

Beside the toilet was a pan scrubber. It was one of the old fashioned ones, the bristles tarnished at the end but the handle was solid pine. Generations gone by clearly had to fight more for their cleanliness and created their products with chemical warfare in mind.

Standing up slowly, trying not to make too much noise with her eyes still pinned at the door, Patsy reached to grip the handle. It fit snugly around her clenched hand.

"Who the fuck are you!" Patsy shouted out as menacingly as she could muster in the direction of the door.

The door gave no answer as she stepped awkwardly out of the bath one foot at a time onto the mat and advanced towards it, raising the scrubber above her head in preparation to smack any unwary intruders around the face with it given the slightest provocation.

Hardly daring to breathe, panic flooding every sense so that the movements seemed to come to her in slow motion Patsy reached out to clasp the door handle still desperately listening for any tell tale sound from the hallway. Nothing was forthcoming and, heart in her mouth, she scrabbled at the handle and pushed the door open very fast.

It creaked heavily as it slowly swung on its hinges to reveal only empty darkness. Patsy twisted her face frantically left and right to scan the deserted bedroom corridor as her skin pebbled against the cold.

Squinting at the shadows Patsy creeped out still uncertain. No one was there now but that didn't mean they hadn't been she told herself firmly. Slowly, methodically, her chest seeming to expand with each step, she opened her bedroom door and then warily walked down the stairs.

Warm air brushed at her ankles as she delved downwards and she frowned as she hit the lower floor. The house seemed to be entirely empty but her front door was ajar, the pile of paper beneath the welcome matt fluttering faintly in the breeze. Patsy shook her head in acute embarrassment now. The door really needed changing, she mustn't have locked it before going up!

Grumbling under her breath she shut it forcefully with both hands and flicked the dead bolt closed with satisfaction.

Stupid.

It was as she turned back to go upstairs and change that her foot hit something soft. Her reflexes, already strained from tension, rebelled and she jumped, the brush clattering loudly to the floor from her surprised fingers as she searched out the cause hurriedly.

It seemed that her handbag had caught up around her foot and her own movement had upturned it to spill out the contents messily onto the floor. Really annoyed now; Patsy crouched down to gather the hodge podge of items and stuff them away again as she gritted her teeth.

As she was just about to shove a handful of paperwork back into the depths of the bag her gaze caught on her own name neatly printed on an envelope. The letter from Urusula. Patsy weighed it in her hand for a moment speculatively before placing it aside. She'd read it when she'd changed.

Changing into fresh plaid pajamas took five minutes at most but the bathroom took over half an hour. The water had left slippery marks on the laminate and Patsy felt compelled to mop and bleach before allowing herself to relax as the water drained with a loud sucking noise.

The letter was still waiting for her when she returned beside her mobile phone in the hallway, hair half dry and curling about her neck, she slit the top of the envelope with her thumb nail.

She'd been right, it was a court notice, the colourful shield of Poplars crown prosecution service gleamed up at her in the top right hand corner and the paper was the posh kind with that special weight to it. Shaking the letter semi flat in her hand, Patsy frowned as she scanned the top line.

The name was the first clue.

Patience Elizabeth Callister.

Old names. Not hers anymore. Not Her name anymore. She'd specifically signed forms to make sure of that fact. She wasn't that person anymore, but she was to this writer. Patsy could feel something very painful rushing through her veins as her eyes continued to read on; ice? Fire? Shock rising numbly.

Victim liaison team... Obliged to inform you... Early release on compassionate grounds as of... it was felt direct contact could... no engagement with therapy...duty of care... apologies.

.  
.  
.

No!

Patsy couldn't tell if she'd said it out loud or not. Her hands curled around the paper as she stood statue still, her breathing so faint she didn't even know if she was doing it anymore.

This was it then. The world had ended. Everything she'd worked for was gone, vanished, over. She was dead, just warm meat waiting to walk into the factory.

There was no other outcome.

The world was darkness.

The house, Patsys home, fell away.

The future stuttered like a heavy typed ellipses.

All gone. Nothing could ever be the same now.

Patsy had no idea how long she stood there, frozen limbed and glassy eyed. She was falling head long into painful shock with fear striking up the background music and it was as though she'd drifted from her own body.

She only became aware of noise as something loud tapped at her hearing. It sounded so far away it took long minutes for her to connect it with a purpose. Mere volume had no power.

Her phone was ringing.

Patsy moved her head an inch to stare down at the glowing face in confusion as she tried to work out what to do. Eventually she reached down and pressed the green button. It took another push of effort to move her hand to her face.

"-Es" She said stupidly into the handset. In front of her the white wall seemed to reflect the inside of her brain. She'd read somewhere that torture victims sometimes played themselves white noise to drown out the screams in their head.

It was all over for her now.

"Patience Elizabeth Mount!" Helens voice exploded out through the phone speaker. A rock skipping through the icy water of Patsys head. Rippling out into deeper pools. Patsy felt herself breathe out in a gasp as the steady sound of heavy tutting reached her.

Patsy had meant to reply with a plantative but simple; 'Helen', but her brain was only working in straight lines at the minute and self preservation took a back seat in light of her current terror. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't feel her body anymore except in the dull understanding that she was shaking.

"M-M-Mum." It was a childs plea. It wasn't Patsy. It was something new and old all wrapped up tightly together.

"Oh, don't you think saying mu- Patience? What is it? What's wrong?" Helen had gone from cold to hot in the flash of precious seconds. Just the voice was enough to make tears leak out from the corners of Patsys eyes. She wanted Helen. Helen was safety.

"S-Scared- He's Ou- Mum!" Patsy ended on a wail, couldn't finish the terrible truth, her lips were too shaky, her brain crammed up with too much fear and old memories to make intelligible words.

"What is it? Has someone hurt you?" There was an ominous rumbling tone behind the question that recalled the mind to maternal bears. Patsy stared at the letter in her hand through a veil of stinging tears.

"No." She said choking on the untruth.

"Are you crying? Pats?"

Patsy could hear a faint sawing noise emanating from her throat, choking on things she couldn't articulate.

"Where are you? Patience you need to calm down and tell me where you are sweetheart." Helen sounded more than a little alarmed now and Patsy felt her lips quiver at the wave of concern from the only human she'd been able to rely on entirely.

"I'm h-home." Patsy stuttered, staring blearily around at her beige hallway and feeling as though everything was tainted. Had someone really been in her home or was she just making things up? Shrinking from shadows or was she in danger?

"I'm coming now. Do you understand? I'm on my way baby, you hold tight for half an hour, can you do that for me?" Helen was already moving, Patsy heard twin thunks as shoes were dropped on the floor from the shoe rack.

"I t-t-think so. Chest hurts." Patsy hesitated. Breathe, she needed to breathe. Everything felt tight, constricting ropes- bands- metal bands, squeezing her lungs. Making the air in front of her wobble as her vision thinned. Everything was dark.

"I think you're having a panic attack sweetheart. Now,' Helens voice was forced calm as the door of her car clicked shut and the seatbelt was affixed. 'I'm going to be with you really soon Patience, I'm driving now but I'm not going to hang up, do you understand?"

"Yes." Patsy whispered into the mouthpiece, her breath fogging the glass.

"Put me on loudspeaker and sit down somewhere okay? It's going to be alright. I'm right here."

"Don't leave me." Patsy whispered tightly.

"I'm not leaving you, I'm on my way, I'm coming."

Patsy did as she was told, crouching bow legged on her stairs, the phone beside her on the step as she pressed her head between her knees. The sound of Helens car rumbling away in the background and Helens voice checking she was okay was the only distraction as Patsys thoughts went back to utterly blank.

She couldn't think. It was so dark in her head it felt as though someone had thrown a blanket across her brain. Blocking out the ability to forsee, to plan. Would there even be any good in planning now? He was out so that meant one thing, Patsy was dead meat. She might as well already be dead, it was only a matter of time.

Lights shone through the cracks in Patsys door and she tensed even as Helen told her to open it and let her in.

Patsy got up on jelly legs and turned the key in the lock after a few clumsy attempts; her hands were shaking too much to get a good grip. When she finally managed it and let the door open wide Helens concerned face filled Patsys vision.

One look was enough.

Patsy burst into croaky sobs and flung herself into Helens shocked arms. Helen teetered dangerously on the threshold for a moment, wrapping her arms tightly around Patsys shoulders before hoiking them both back into the house and slamming the front door shut behind them.

To Helens credit the woman didn't waste time demanding answers from Patsy who was clearly in no fit state to give them. Instead she half dragged, half carried Patsy into the living room and onto the sofa, pulling Patsy more tightly into her side. Patsy just heaved dry sobs against Helens jumper, staining the thin wool as she clutched at Helens solid form.

Eventually the tears ran out long enough for Patsy to realise that Helen was rocking her and making her body feel like it was on a boat.

"It's okay, it's going to be alright." Helen was murmuring repeatedly against Patsys head, her voice soothing and calm as she rubbed endless circles on Patsys back. Patsy choked back more sniffles as she tried to gather some dignity.

"He's out. Helen they've let him out." The truth, the accusation, the horrifying reality burst from Patsy like a bullet. The world was such a dark place with this fact in it. Why? Why? Why now?

"Who sweetheart? What's happened?"

Patsy looked down blearily at her fist. The letter was still balled up around her fist, the paper crumpled but legible. Wordlessly, Patsy passed it to Helen still unable to say anything more.

The paper crackled as Helen dutifully smoothed it in her hands and scanned its contents. Patsy heard the womans teeth click together and a soft hiss whistle through Helens lips.

"You got this just now?" Helen asked seriously and Patsy shook her head still burrowed into Helens jumper.

"A few days ago, it got lost somehow. The date on it says it was sent six months ago. He's been out all that time Helen." Patsy was an idiot, should have opened the letter as soon as it was given to her.

"He can't hurt you sweetheart. You know he can't come anywhere near you." Helen comforted in a whisper against Patsys scalp but even so, her hands tightened against Patsy, pulling her in closer protectively. Patsy could only laugh at such false comforts.

"You think he cares about laws? I'm the reason they caught him, I was supposed to die like everyone else, he's going to find me."

"He won't' Helen said firmly, 'sweetheart there's no way to find you. You chose to change your last name, the social services wouldn't release your contact information and even if they did it isn't current. There would be no way he could even know if you were still around here, you could have been sent anywhere in the country after what happened. You're safe baby, I know this is bad but it changes nothing. He can't hurt you anymore." Helen sounded determined, her jaw clenching as she squeezed Patsy tightly.

"What if he comes looking for me? What if he finds out about you? Helen, he wants me dead, he's not about to let a few road blocks stop him... I need to leave." Patsy couldn't fathom what she needed to do, couldn't bare the thought of starting afresh but if she had to, then she had to. Patsy wouldn't watch another mother die.

"Now you stop this, right now." Helen said very loudly. Patsy, who had made to get up, froze. Flinching away from Helens anger. Helen spotted it and softened immediately, drawing Patsy back down beside her, clasping Patsys hand in both of hers. 'You've had a shock and you're entitled to be afraid but I want no talk about leaving. This is your home, I'm not about to see you walk away from everything you've built over your lifetime because of one psychopath. Do you think you're alone? You've got me Patience and I will move heaven and earth to keep you safe, is that clear?"

Helen was glaring at Patsy so ferociously Patsy ducked her head in immediate compliance.

"Yes." She said in a very small voice.

Helen seemed to settle somewhat and set about stroking Patsy neck idly.

"You should count yourself very lucky young lady. I did not plan on being nice to you this evening."

This statement took a while to filter through into Patsys brain but eventually it did. Patsy blinked in confusion, momentarily derailed.

"Why? What did I do this time?" She queried wretchedly. It was hard to bring up recent events at the minute. Helen sighed and pressed her chin against Patsys head but clearly seemed pleased she'd achieved what she wanted. A distraction.

"You gave my number to someone very recently I think." She said without any real anger. Patsy frowned, confused, before realisation struck.

"Oh... She called you then?" That didn't take very long. Phyllis clearly didn't believe in mucking about. Helen clicked her teeth lightly.

"Hmm... If it weren't for what's happened you would be in a very different shade of trouble Patience Mount."

"I was trying to help, it wasn't done maliciously." Patsy offered meakly. Helen sighed wearily and patted Patsys shoulder.

"I know... It still doesn't mean it wasn't a shock to hear her voice on my phone at four o clock this afternoon."

They sat for a moment as Patsy wiped her eyes on Helens shoulder shyly.

"Are you very angry?" She asked eventually, feeling her head throb from too much crying.

"No, not really. Just taken aback. Don't worry about it, I'll manage things." Helen answered shortly after a few seconds pause. She didn't sound very believable and Patsy winced at her own carelessness. She should have asked Helen first.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, I understand why you did it."

"He's going to kill me Helen." Patsy said matter of factly, drifting back towards despair.

"He'll have to get through me first." Helen replied tersely, equally factual.

Patsy physically winced as she saw a sudden image of Helen burning alive in her head. She decided to turn her attention to something else as more tears threatened.

"Will you tell me about it? You and Phyllis? I wouldn't mind hearing about the woman who managed to get you so worked up like this. It's so not you Helen. I'm kind of impressed." Patsy wasn't truly interested right now but anything to keep talking normally was welcome.

Distraction and misdirection. She needed noise, needed something to focus on to stop her thinking of-

"I don't know, you manage to inspire similar turbulence at times." Helen reflected dryly. Patsy merely twisted her lips against Helens shoulder, guilty as charged.

"Was it a fairy tale thing?" Patsy pressed hesitantly and Helen paused as though considering this idea before laughing hollowly.

"Weird fairy tale if it was... It was- just our love story. Not something anyone would find that interesting. It ended ugly but it started out beautiful enough I suppose."

Helen didn't seem like she was going to go on any more until Patsy prodded her gently hating the silence.

"I care, I'm interested. Tell me, it'll at least stop me dwelling on all of this." Patsy waved her hand at the sheet of paper and all it entailed.

Helen tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.

"That's blackmail." She accused without heat and Patsy shrugged, waiting expectantly. They stared at one another until Helens mind seemed to turn inwards resignedly Patsy waited not speaking; allowing Helens thoughts to assemble, letting histories float back into the present until, slowly, Helen looked down to her hands with a tut tutting of her tongue against teeth. Heavily, she traced the ball of her finger joint; seeing something there only she could see.

"What can I tell you? It was...' She gave a great huff before speaking very fast as though trying to get the worst bit over quickly. 'I was a half black bastard child with no father. My mum might have been white but' Helen laughed bitterly. 'I guess the genetics didn't work out properly for anyone. I didn't look half and half that was certain, dark as any other black; the only brown toddler for miles no matter where we went. We'd get comments in the street, people crossing the road to avoid us, that sort of thing.

Mum had a few men after my dad dissapeared but none of them stuck it out. She said it was because of me; they didn't want a black stepdaughter trailing after them and she was right probably... We had a difficult relationship my mother and I. She loved me but I know she resented me too. Maybe I reminded her too much of my dad and Lord knows he broke her heart good and proper when he left. Not my fault of course but I still felt ashamed, like I'd let everyone down somehow.'

Helen was still rubbing at her skin absentmindedly.

'It was the seventies, the odds were not... It was difficult.' Helen spoke blandly, no inflection staining the words. Patsy looked down sadly at Helens dark fingers. She'd never cared about the womans colour, it hadn't mattered to her because when everyones let you down you didn't discriminate. Shouldn't have mattered to anyone. 'We moved around a lot, I've told you that. Mum eventually got a job as a cleaner in Leeds, Phyllis's mum was a single parent too and... they worked together cleaning at the hospital. Got on in their own way; cups of tea round each others flats after shift, that kind of thing." Helen trailed off, lost in her own thoughts. Patsy waited a few moments before clearing her throat noisily.

"So? Phyllis? Did your eyes meet across a crowded room?" Patsy asked the question apologetically as Helen jumped, perhaps forgetting that she was telling her story to someone.

Helen never spoke about her childhood, never spoke about lovers and up 'til now Patsy had been content to respect that. It was gratifying to know Helen trusted her enough to allow Patsy to hear about all of this even if it hurt Helen to talk about it.

"No, not as such.' Helen went on shakily. 'We didn't like each other all that much Phyllis and I the first few years. I was wild as hell, wanting to fight the world before it hit me first and Phyllis was this... petulant teachers pet who used to lecture me every time we crossed paths. I thought I hated her, some days I would just seethe about how much she irritated me. I think she felt much the same way to be honest."

"So, not a fairy tale then?" Patsy commented wryly, Helen merely stroked Patsys head, eyes fond.

"No, not really." She said a little ruefully.

"What changed?" Patsy asked and Helen frowned, thinking of an answer.

"I don't really know.' Helen said eventually, chewing her lip thoughtfully. 'She brought out all of these... strange emotions in me you see. I thought at first- I thought I hated her and that was the reason I watched her so much. When someone irritates you you become so much more aware of that individual I've always found but even then, from the first moment I laid eyes on her in fact, she captured some part of me. Everything about her inspired so many things I didn't understand and I had never met anyone who had done that to me before. It made me angry.' Helen sighed again and glanced at Patsy quickly, her voice taking on a pleading edge as though she thought Patsy might judge her for her behaviour.

'You need to understand; back then wasn't like now. Gay people didn't exist like they do now. In fact, I can't recall ever meeting anyone like us that I could have spotted or spoken to about how I felt. They didn't refer to it in schools except for the other children as a kind of terrible slur no one truly believed could even be true. Criminals did that sort of unnatural thing, not normal decent people. Or so I thought.

Real lesbians hid out at bars or cottaged. Only the brave ones marched and no one spoke about those sort of women in polite company. Certainly not to me anyway. I had no concept of...' Helen paused, shaking her head so her tightly coiled hair bounced and juddered.

'All I had ever thought I would be was a wife and I had grown up telling myself that I would at least be a better mother to my children than my own had been to me. So what, I thought, I hadn't met a man who interested me. I assumed I'd meet one eventually.

So you see Phyllis... Well, I had no way to understand that I was attracted to her. It just never crossed my mind as a possibility and yet-' Helen drew her hand away to rub at the bridge of her nose roughly.

'She had this perfect looking boyfriend, Phyllis I mean and the two of them would walk about arm in arm and... like I said, I had all these confusing feelings swimming about. I swear everytime I saw them together I just wanted to shout at them. Of course I never did, I was just cold. Refused to reply if I saw Phyllis on her own and she tried to speak to me. I felt like she showed him off on purpose even though the idea was ridiculous. Looking back I realise I was jealous of the boy, I hated that she gave him the time of day and I behaved badly towards them both.' Helen stared at the wall for a moment, embarrassed at her admission before continuing briskly.

'It was not my finest hour, still, in any case, Phyllis was used to me being so spiky so she ignored it for the most part which drove me insane I might add but he, can't quite remember his name, I think I've blocked him out, I think he saw me for what I truly was even when I didn't realise it. He knew what I really wanted."

"So you had a crush... And then what happened?" Patsy couldn't imagine a teenage Helen but the idea of confusion and the fear twanged a few bells in her own head. She wondered how she would have lived in that era; in her heart of hearts she wished she would have been one of the brave ones who marched but deep down she wasn't sure...

"Ahh... ' Helen finally smiled a happier smile, her brown eyes softening. 'A bus journey and a touch of fate happened. I didn't have much money back then, mum earned just enough for rent and food so I got a part time job. Waitressed as it goes. Anyway, I used to work until closing time and then get a bus home after shift.

One night I managed to forget my purse somehow, something completely out of character for me. Phyllis was up front on the same bus, must have been on a date looking perfect with her boyfriend. We were going the same way, lived in the same block of flats and everything. Naturally, I sat as far away as I could... I looked disgusting in this horrible yellow uniform they made us wear and stunk of ciggerettes and oil. I hoped she hadn't seen me.

The ticket conductor came along as they always used to do and obviously I didn't have money to pay. It was dark and cold and I asked him to wait until the next day, explained I'd forgotten my purse. I was a regular customer after all and he'd seen me before but, like I said, the attitudes towards blacks... He was going to throw me off the bus, I just knew it. We talked, or should I say he did and I listened, I was just about to get off and start walking in the dark when Phyllis came over, boyfriend at her shoulder. She must have heard what was going on and without a hesitation she smoothed the whole thing over, paid for my ticket and everything. The conductor couldn't do anything about it but leave me be.

What could I do Pats?' Helen stroked Patsys hair gently. 'I was so embarrassed, having to be saved by the one person who- Well, I just about managed to look her in the eye before I had to look away again. I'd behaved so rottenly and she hadn't deserved it. I was ashamed, so ashamed. Phyllis told me not to worry about it and went to move away, she must have thought I was being my usual surly self... I don't know, maybe that might have been it, maybe nothing might have happened, but...' Helen looked down at her hands again, turning the palm over to trace the lines creasing the pink skin with a soft exhalation. 'Phyllis's boyfriend decided he needed to give me a lecture on my expectations."

"He what?" Patsy interrupted indignantly. Trying to sit up more to look at Helens face. Helens free hand kept Patsy where she was, shushing placatingly even as she smiled. Patsy felt bewildered by the womans calm speech, why wasn't she more angry?

"Yeah, he did. Must have thought that was his chance to put me in my place;' Helen intoned smugly, 'told me that I wasn't going to get charity my whole life and a darky like me should just be thankful decent folk like him and Phyllis were around to save me. Not that I deserved it...' Helen rolled her eyes as though she'd heard it all before.

Probably had Patsy thought sourly.

'I didn't know Phyllis had been listening. She'd been halfway down the bus when he said it, I just looked at the floor like I'd learned to because they went away quicker that way... but she heard him and she didn't like what he was saying apparently. She came back, charged at him like a bull and told him not to speak for her again, told him I didn't need charity and it could have happened to anyone. She started pulling him away, back down the bus but he wouldn't go, the idiot was wagging his finger at her saying she shouldn't waste her money on any nigger." Helen was smiling so widely now that her white teeth peeked out onto her bottom lip. Patsy couldn't understand it.

"Did you at least break his nose?" She asked angrily and Helen rolled her eyes.

"That would have got me locked up. No. I did much better than that or should I say Phyllis did and I was merely a lucky bystander. She dropped his hand and pushed him into the next row of seats so hard I thought he was going to vomit; told him straight faced she'd rather spend her money and time with a friend than a bigot and that if that's how he saw things he'd do best not to call for her again. She'd be busy. Then she sat down beside me and she... She held my hand, right in front of him. Took us both by surprise I think.' Helen stroked her palm as though still tracing the long gone touch.

'I tried to pull my hand back of course, not wanting a bigger scene, afraid he might get handsy but she wouldn't let me go. Just sat straight backed, staring ahead the whole way to our stop while he stalked away. She held my hand down the bus past the guy who couldn't do anything about it, down the road, all the way to the block of flats like she didn't care if she got seen with someone like me.

It was only at the door she let me pull my hand away. She was watching me, it was late and no one was around. I felt embarrassed and awkward, I thought she'd wake up the next day and blame me if that boy didn't want to see her again. Should have known better than that really; Phyllis wasn't built like that. She was smarter than me... I tried to say something. God knows what I would have come out with, I wasn't all that good at being humble but I suppose I would have said... thank you."

"You shouldn't have had to thank someone for doing the right thing." Patsy interrupted again, reaching out to hold Helens hand tightly. These hands had saved Patsy.

"Hush.' Helen said softly. 'I never got the words out, never even managed to get my mouth open before she was kissing me. Just like that, kissing me like a damn demon. Didn't even bother talking. I swear I'd never known people, women, whatever you want to look at it like, could kiss like that. I thought I was dying, my heart was beating so fast and she just kept kissing me. We were mad, standing where anyone could have seen us, wrestling about kissing like two idiots."

"That sounds pretty fairytale to me Helen." Patsy observed eventually, a little amused at the idea of Helen being caught out by someone. She'd have to give Phyllis a bit more respect next time they crossed paths; that move had been smooth.

"Yes, that part was special. She was so...' Helen paused trying to think of the right words. 'Much. So much feelings and love and she didn't care. About anything. I went to bed that night feeling like I was floating somehow, woke up the next day and it was like I'd gone my whole life seeing the world in black and white and somehow kissing Phyllis made the rest of it come into focus. She made me see everything I hadn't before, all the colour and the sheer joy of existing.

It changed my life and then I couldn't stop. Neither of us could. It was sweet madness and we both had it like a fever or something.' Helens eyes shone so brightly it was almost alarming and Patsy stared in awe. She'd never experienced that kind of love in her entire life and most likely never would; it sounded like a once in a lifetime sort of thing to her ears at least. Helen dabbed at her eyes hurriedly and cleared her throat again noisily before speaking. She sounded hoarse.

'We were careful, her more than me I must say, but we still took every opportunity to be together. How we didn't get caught I'll never know. We spent all the time we had together and no one said much about it really; there would be plenty of time for marriage yet our mothers told anyone who asked and it was all true, time was ours to do with what we pleased at first but then; years went by and the future sort of loomed up on us in the end."

"You broke up?" Patsy was already skipping ahead to the end she knew was coming and was surprised to see Helen shake her head looking haunted.

"Perhaps we should of just given it up then. It would have hurt but not as much as it did at the close. Alas, the young don't know what the older versions of themselves do and neither of us could bare being apart. Phyllis came up with the idea of teaching as it happens. She'd seen the adverts. She said lots of professionals lived together without question, we could train, get a flat and style ourselves as two old maid types who lived together for convenience. It seemed as good a plan as any to me at eighteen."

Patsy couldn't help thinking of Delia and snorted at what her opinion might be of being labelled an old maid.

"So that's why you're a teacher? As a cover story?" Patsy had always assumed Helen had chosen the profession because she liked kids.

"Initially, although I'm glad I did it. I like my job it brought me to you, although God knows the work isn't what it used to be. In any case we left home to train. My mother let me go without much fuss; I think she might have suspected what Phyllis really was to me but she never said it. We didn't talk about what I was once you know. She died and I never told her... Phyllis's mother was much more understanding, she loved her daughter and if I made her happy then she didn't need to know anything more.

We trained at college and then we got jobs. Getting a place was much harder than we imagined though. We lost our first two flats because of me. No Irish, no blacks, no dogs was a common policy back then see. I remember that I had concerns even then that being with me would bring Phyllis more trouble than I was worth; a point we argued to death in fact. Phyllis damn near bit my head off when I mentioned it. Said she loved me and everyone else's opinion wouldn't change that so I better just leave it be.

Our first proper flat together was small and the landlord hoiked up the rent to let us have it but it was ours... We managed about a year before things really went bad."

"Bad?" Patsy asked in some trepidation. Helen sniffed, her throat moving smoothly as she swallowed.

"We were careful, as I say, not to be spotted for what we really were. We got jobs at different schools, didn't show affection in public, didn't allow ourselves any chances to be ourselves really unless we were home with the door shut...' Helen paused and reached to touch Patsys cheek affectionately. 'Patience, you can't know- I never want you to know, how draining it is living that big of a lie. Not driving in the same car in case someone sees, not being able to hold the person you love's hand in the shop, feeling like everyone is watching you constantly. Living in front of a lens.

The lying wore us both down in the end. We were both so tired of it, not of each other but of what we had to do to be together. I grew resentful of it all, wanted to be more free so I started taking risks. At first it was harmless, I'd reach over and touch her hair when we were walking in the street. Innocent touches but it got more bold... Someone saw it, someone worked it all out."

Had the room got colder? Patsy felt a shiver run down her spine as Helens chest seemed to inflate, her cheeks growing paler and finally, her voice shook with suppressed rage as she spoke.

"We came home one night and our home was- all but destroyed. We had walls and doors still but that didn't give us much comfort. There wasn't a stick of furniture the vandals hadn't broken apart, our walls were grafitied with the vilest names I've ever seen, even our clothes were ruined. God knows what they threw on them but when we found them they looked like a bucket of blood had been soaking all over everything in a pile and our bed-' Helens eyes were shiny with tears and the hand in Patsys curled as though she wished they could throttle the cuplrits through time and space. 'They'd taken a knife or something similar to the mattress, ripped it into peices and then some dirty, degenerate had dumped an actual decapitated pigs head on a stick into the bed frame."

Patsy really did sit up this time and Helen didn't stop her now. She wouldn't meet Patsys eye, just stared blankly at the wall her eyes scrunched up as though a light was being shined into them. Patsy felt a lump in her throat as she imagined the scene. It happened, all round the world and no one ever got caught.

"What did you- Did you ring the police?" Patsy whispered. Helen gave one, short, frustrated laugh.

"We did. Might as well not have bothered. They came and took one look at what the words said, one look at me and said they'd put it in the books. Never heard from them again. No one was going to bother themselves over two dykes getting what the deserved." The resignation and the bitter rembrance were scary coming from Helens mouth. Helen, who'd taught Patsy never to let someone beat her, utterly defeated.

"Don't say that-" Patsy began angrily but Helen smacked her arm down on the sofa in frustration.

"It was the truth! That was what they thought and I knew it too. I knew it would happen again if we carried on. Next time it might have been worse; one of us could have been home when those animals turned up and anything could- How could I have lived with myself if they hurt her? It was my fault, I'd been careless, I'd made it happen. I knew it was the end of us and it was all my fault. I hadn't been careful. I put us in danger for purely selfish reasons."

"You weren't selfish, you just wanted the world to let you be. That sounds pretty normal to me." Patsy argued in vain. Helen just shook her head more violently, her nostrils flaring as she breathed hard.

"We argued and we cried but I knew we couldn't continue, it wasn't safe anymore. It wasn't right. I told Phyllis; she'd be better off finding herself a man, she'd done it before and she'd do it again just fine if I wasn't around confusing everything for her. She said she wouldn't, said she loved me and we should just go somewhere else, somewhere new where no one knew who we were. She tried so hard to change my mind, I knew she wouldn't let me go if we stayed in contact, if she knew where I was she'd come and find me and I wouldn't be strong enough to send her away... So I waited. We had to get a hotel room in the end, the flat wasn't habitable and we spent one more night together... I think she understood deep down that I was decided on my course of action but that didn't stop her. Or me. One last night... I thought my heart was breaking in her hands but I had to do it. I had to leave... I waited for her to fall asleep afterwards and I left.'

Patsy could feel Helens nails against her hand, they bit into the soft skin as she gripped Patsy like an anchor.

'I came here, got a job at Matties. I didn't have any references but they were so desperate for teachers I didn't need any. The work was hard but it was a distraction. My mother had moved from Leeds by that time and it wasn't as though I could simply call Phyllis to see if she was okay so I set my mind to work and work alone. I comforted myself with the idea that Phyllis had probably moved on, forgotten all about me and, even if it made me sick, married some bloke."

"Why would you think that? You didn't do it, why would she?" Patsy shook her head at the devastation in Helens voice. Helen glanced at Patsy and gulped.

"Because if I let myself think that she was out there, waiting for me... I don't think I could have gotten up every morning like I did. I loved her so much leaving her was like ripping off my arm, living without a limb... I had to hope she was happy somewhere."

"She wants to see you again, I don't think she stopped loving you." Patsy said dogmatically and Helens lip quivered.

"I knew she was close by. Saw her name on a register a few years ago and asked around. I was... surprised to hear she was living apparently alone."

"You did?' Patsy raised her eyebrows in surprise. 'Why didn't you talk to her then?"

Helen threw her head back and looked at the ceiling wretchedly.

"Because... I didn't know what to say, what to do. She might have moved on, might hate me for being a coward. We'd lived a lie before for all I knew she was living with someone else. She might-"

"She doesn't Helen. Talk to her.' Patsy squeezed Helens hand tightly, 'now is not then. For one thing anyone comes near your place and I'll personally lock them away. You could have your life, you could hold her hand in sainsburys if you wanted."

"There's never been anyone else you know.' Helen said firmly as though she hadn't heard Patsy. 'I've never done anything like that. It didn't seem right to. I never wanted..." She trailed off looking awkward suddenly and Patsy recalled the night Helens mother died.

"I know you haven't Helen.' Patsy said quietly to cover the pause. 'No one could doubt you; I just didn't know why... Look, do you love this woman or do you just want to forget it?"

"Always. For me it will always be her but I don't- She could be different, it's not straight forward." Helen sounded as though she was waiting to be talked down from a ledge somehow.

"You'll never know unless you ring her back or better yet go to the school. I'm going tomorrow to see someone, you can tag along if you want." To see another question mark woman of Patsys very own.

"No... I'm not ready, I need a few more days." Helen moaned, shutting her eyes tightly.

"You can't wait forever Helen, Phyllis is there now. Perfect moments happen when you make them happen."

"I know she is... I don't know what to say. I'm older, what if she doesn't want what I want? What if I'm not-"

"Pretty? Oh for Gods sake woman you're still in your prime. I'd take you upstairs now and prove it if I didn't know you'd turn me down. At least I know why now, you were giving me a complex you know." Patsy had pitched the righteous annoyance just right and was repaid with an amused eye roll from Helen.

"You're ridiculous Patience."

"She's probably thinking the same thing right now about all of this but if she feels a tenth of what you do then I think you'll be fine. Talk to her." Patsy implored, looking into Helens face. Helen deserved to be happy, she deserved everything and if something did happen to Patsy atleast-

"Alright, I will. I will." Helen placated with a grumble and Patsy narrowed her eyes.

"Tonight?" She challenged belligerently. Helen tapped her foor irritably.

"No,' The older woman said sounding long suffering, 'not tonight. I'm spending the night at my daughters house, old lovers can wait twenty four hours, she's waited this long. You're my priority this evening."

The room warmed again at these words. The safe flutter returned and Patsy felt loved.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the sofa... thank you Helen."

Helen shook her head again and kissed Patsys forehead.

"For you; anything sweetheart."

The shadows were still there though. Nothing had changed.

"Helen?"

Helen looked at Patsy, her eyes shrewd but accepting.

"Yes?"

"If it ever comes up... don't die for me, I'm not worth it." Patsy could still smell smoke from twenty years ago, could still hear the screams of everyone she knew burning ti death. She couldn't lose Helen. She wouldn't survive that trauma twice.

Helen swallowed as though something large had caught in her throat and grasped Patsys face.

"You will be just fine do you here me? Enough talking like that... and to me, you're worth everything Pats. Every damn thing, don't let this mess you up. You're not that child anymore. You are not alone."

Helen looked so fretful it was all Patsy could do to nod her head and try desperately to believe her.

"I know I'm not." Patsy whispered.

Still didn't change the fact The Master was free and loose somewhere, probably plotting terrible things though.

And even as Patsy got up and went to hunt blankets for yet another night on the sofa she knew she'd lied.

Patsy was always alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo
> 
> My freaking module is done. Finito. You hear me? Its over people, I'm free until January 12th. No more studying to freaking eleven at night, missed meals, essay writing, memorising of presentations and general stress. This banana has time to do what she wants which means...
> 
> I CAN WRITE AGAIN! I'm back in the game and I've had a relaxing weekend to recharge my batteries.
> 
> Woo freaking hoo
> 
> Ahem... Moving on, so apologies for the long delay, I had to focus for a while but I'm back and I really hope this chapter doesn't dissapoint. Poor old Pats eh? And the kids and long lost lesbians of days gone by. Hopefully you'll all enjoy the ending to this bad boy and yes(!) she finally read that bloody letter!
> 
> Anyhoo, hope this is enough to reel you back in and hey, I'll see you Sunday hopefully.
> 
> Stay cool,
> 
> SB x


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the confidence nipped in the bud. I got the backchat that does me no good.
> 
> Paul Heaton. She got the garden.

Patsy woke the next morning in an oddly calm mood given how long it had taken for her to drop off to sleep on her lumpy sofa. The terrors of the night before had not been in anyway relegated to the back of her mind but on a full nights sleep she could almost see around it so to speak. 

The Master was out there. True. He would always be a threat in the back of Patsys mind... but that didn't mean he would be an imminent threat did it? The sun was technically a threat, driving in rush hour was a threat, crossing the road in broad daylight was a threat and that had never stopped Patsy before now.

In the cool light of morning Patsy could only put her unexpectedly emotional response of the evening before down to shock. Fear had resurfaced but they had been old fears. Unfounded fears. Helen had been right, as usual, there really was no way for the Master to find her. For all he knew she could have been sent anywhere in the country after the farce of the court case. Honestly, she probably should have moved away but... Poplar was her home and like a crab in its shell Poplar cacooned Patsy. Kite and anchor.

Besides, Patsy told herself firmly as she sat up on the sofa, it was hard to feel scared with the comforting prescence of Helen in her kitchen and the tantalising smells of cooked breakfast wafting into the living room. The mystery of how this small miracle was achieved, seeing as Patsy had purchased neither eggs nor bacon, was quickly explained by a fully dressed Helen when Patsy slouched in rubbing her eyes blearily. Slightly too long plaid pajamas trailing on the floor as she went.

"I went to the shops and bought them Patience."

Was the amused reply when Patsy asked. Patsy had hidden her blushes at the thought of Helen poking around her cupboards, thanking her lucky stars she'd been shopping recently, but quickly discarded them as a plate of steaming cooked breakfast was slid in front of her. Patsy didn't require telling twice. Helen ate only toast Patsy noted through a mouthful of eggs. 

"You're nervous?" Patsy supposed out loud as she also spied Helens mobile phone dangling precariously from her mothers jeans pocket. Helen sipped her coffee pensively but didn't immediately answer. 

"You will ring her today won't you?" Patsy pushed on, surprised at her bullishness and not needing to specify who the She was. Normally Patsy wouldn't be so blasé around Helens feelings but their conversation had changed things. Patsy felt almost equal for once. If Helen could still be Helen after her broken heart then perhaps Patsy hadn't got it so bad and anyway... it was Wednesday. She'd be seeing Delia today. 

"I said I'd try, I meant it, but... I don't want you getting your hopes up." Helen warned over her drink and Patsy snorted.

"My hopes? This isn't about me getting a new mummy Helen. I want you to be happy, that's the goal here. If she's this mythical love of your life then I'm going to push you. I want you to have the best, that's all this is about." Patsy couldn't understand why Helen didn't know that. Helens happiness was priority number one, the woman deserved a knighthood after everything she'd done for Patsy.

"Speaking of the best... I noticed your neck last night.' Helen said delicately, eyeballing Patsy across the kitchen table and neatly switching subject. Patsy blushed, her hand reaching to touch her neck without thought. Embarrassment rankled as Patsy met Helens eyes. 

"I- I had a fall." Patsy volunteered, knowing Helen wouldn't buy it. 

"Some fall." Helen commented gently and Patsy felt guilt pound at her. She didn't want to talk about Val right now but... 

"I was seeing someone. Decided it wasn't what I wanted." Patsy volunteered stiffly, disliking the sadness in Helens face.

"And this individual took it out on you?" Helen probed, her eyes narrowing slightly. Patsy shrugged and gave more attention to her breakfast. 

"It's fine. It's over now." Annoying how much that truth stung really. Val hadn't text Patsy overnight and it seemed that Patsy had got her wish... Which was good and bad all rolled into one. Helen puffed out her cheeks before softening abruptly.

"I want you to be happy too sweetheart... Just pick a girl who doesn't ruin your skin okay? I want grandchildren at some point you know." 

Helen had clearly been joking but Patsy nonetheless choked on her bacon. Shocked at how close to home Helen had got. Spluttering and spewing bacon all over the table she forced herself to swallow the massive mouthful and eventually subsided into dry heaves when Helen leaned over to smack Patsy firmly on the back. 

"Alright, alright. It wasn't an immediate demand, no need to kill yourself love." Helen said laughing slightly at Patsy as Patsy gasped, dabbing at her watery eyes with her pajama top. 

"Umm...' Patsy sounded hoarse as she cleared her throat, it felt as though it was on fire but the choking was only half the reason she felt nervous. She gave Helen a hopefully winning smile and took the plunge. 'Funny you should mention that." 

\--

The Police car park was always busy. Squad cars and bobbies coming and going at all hours, waving at comrades and fellons. Patsy watched it all lazily, occasionally waving a hand in silent greeting to friends as the ambled past, while she smoked a final before-work-fag in her car. 

Helens reaction to the news that Patsy planned to take on two children had been surprising to say the least. Patsy had been expecting lectures, perhaps a gentle 'it's a big responsibility' lecture or, in the very least, a discussion on the need to purchase shopping more regularly if this was her plan. None of this had occurred. Instead, Helen had sat down shakily on the wooden kitchen chair and listened with a half smile as Patsy gabbled Fern and Seppies story to her. A look of incredulous wonder creasing the beloved face. 

When Patsy had stuttered to the end of her litany Helen had pressed the tips of her finger tips to her mouth, the lines around her almond shaped eyes creasing into fond folds. 

"You're sure? You're absolutely certain?" Helen had asked carefully and Patsy had swallowed hard before nodding her head once. 

"Yes. I'm certain." She'd affirmed shakily expecting Helen to sigh and shrug. Instead she'd been thrown back by the force of Helens smile. Before she'd known what was happening Helen was beside her, smothering her in a bare hug so complete their knees actually banged together.

"You've come a long way my girl.' Helen had said croakily into Patsys hair and Patsy had blushed as red as her pajamas.

"You're really not annoyed with me?" Patsy asked surprised and Helen laughed wetly as she released Patsy but maintained a steady hold on her daughters shoulder. 

"Annoyed? Of course not. You're doing what you believe is right, how could I be anything but proud of you." Helen exclaimed still teary eyed. Patsy let the wave of certainty emanating from Helen crash over her, unnerving and lovely at the same time. 

"But Helen... what if I cock it up? What if I get it wrong?" Now she knew Helen approved she could let out the smidgeon of doubt out. Helen just shook her head at Patsy as though waiting for Patsy to work something very obvious out. 

"Then you'll put it right again. It's who you are Patience. I know it's hard, I worried when you first moved in. I wasn't sure I'd get everything right but that's okay. You'll learn and I've no doubt they'll let you know if you misstep. Goodness knows you always did." There was no judgement, just utter acceptance and Patsy couldn't quite put into words how much that meant. She settled for another hug and washed up the dishes. 

Leaving for work after all of that left Patsy with a feeling of lightness she rarely experienced. She hoped it stuck around for a bit actually because it was simply lovely to feel so... Pleased.

As she drove through Poplars quiet back roads she allowed her thoughts to fall on the case. Her mind, finally clear of other concerns, circled around the annoying stray ends that had been troubling her, twisting them together to make a more comprehensible picture.

And then she'd been at work, pulling inti her favourite spot and winding down the window absentmindedly. By the time her ciggerette had burned down to the butt Patsy felt ready for the day. Screw The Master. She was Patsy Mount, she could do anything. 

The busy car park seemed to melt from her speeding feet as she glided into work. This must be how swans feel all the time she mused idly. 

Even the sight of Alice, standing ready at the front desk with her habitual scowl, was not enough to dampen her spirits and she actually grinned at the brunette and stopped to check the sign in book. 

"Morning beautiful." Patsy said sincerely to a bewildered Alice.

"You seem happy with yourself." Alice commented, eyeing Patsy speculatively as Patsy replaced the book. Patsy shrugged and glanced at Alice.

Perhaps old grudges should be buried on such a day. Patsy had been an idiot when she'd done what she'd done certainly but the knife had definitely been a low blow from Alice. Perhaps in such a mood Patsy could smooth things over. You never knew until you tried.

"You've changed your hair Al. It looks good on you." Compliments and flattery. Patsy had learned a few tricks from the Master after all. Alice, despite herself, patted her newly shorn hair. She'd gone for one of those half short, half long, bob things that provoked a mental image of a hairdresser falling into cardiac arrest halfway through the haircut but Alice had good cheek bones and a pointy chin. She worked it better than most. 

"I saw it on the tele.' Alice murmured, her voice unusually soft, maybe taken aback at Patsys lack of rebuff. Patsy smiled a smile akin to a thousand candles and watched a flush travel over Alices neck. Hmm, she'd forgotten Alice did that. 

"Nice perfume too Al. Very earthy." Patsy went on feeling that it was all going rather well. Perhaps Bono had a point about all that goodwill to all men stuff. Alices forehead creased in confusion as she stared at Patsy, her lips puckering slightly as she tried to work out Patsys game. 

"Are you... Are you flirting with me?" Alice asked sounding thoroughly disconcerted and Patsy shifted back automatically. 

"What? No, course not.' She said embarrassed, 'I just thought... Well I was just trying to be nice." 

Alice, apparently offended, seemed to take refuge in firmly set dislike. Her gaze turned icy as she glared at Patsy. 

"I don't take kindly to being mocked Mount." Alice huffed petulantly. Patsy held back a sigh. Well, she'd tried. 

"Wasn't mocking, just having a good morning Al. Thought I'd pay it forward that's all." 

Alice bristled with unwarranted frustration. 

"Good morning? What did you do exactly, break some other poor girls heart already." The venom was truly there and Patsy winced knowing she deserved it slightly. 

"Al,' Patsy began beseechingly, 'I'm truly sorry about that. I was a bitch, I'll hold my hands up to it but I honestly never thought I was breaking your heart. If I'd known I would've handled things differently." 

"Different to fucking my cousin in a pub toilet." Alice supplied witheringly and Patsy bit her tongue. 

"Yes, differently to that. You're a really lovely girl Al, you deserve someone much better than me anyway but I just wanted you to know I regret it and I'm sorry. I realise it's a bit late." 

If Patsy had thought this apology would help to soften Alice it quickly became clear that she was wildly mistaken. Alice huffed and lent closer, her index finger tapping like a persistent metronome on the polished wood of the front desk. 

"You think you're so smooth don't you. Well, I've got news for you Mount, karmas a total bitch. The women you've wronged won't stand for it." 

"What, all of them?' Patsy snapped before she could stop herself, 'is there a club of some sorts, do you sit in a circle and tell stories about how shit I am? Are their badges? Al I don't want an argument with you, I liked you. I really did. I just don't know how to do the commitment thing." Except she needed to learn. Wanted to learn. 

Alices cheeks were pinking slightly and she tilted her head for a moment. The annoyance dying momentarily before resurfacing again.

"Oh yes, I remember exactly what your kind of like feels like Patience' Alice grumbled before turning away muttering something about 'deserves to know the truth." 

"What was that?" Patsy asked irritably, she hated mumblers. 

"I said that that lawyer that was here yesterday; she's not single. Not that it matters to you,' Alices voice was bitter and angry. 'She's all shacked up with a teacher. But I bet you already knew that. The poor girls probably got no idea you're homewrecking as usual. Someone should warn her about you." 

Patsy stared at Alice, completely lost at what to say. It didn't feel as though anything was going to help so Patsy decided not to bother in the end.

"Have a nice day Al." Patsy grunted as she walked to her office. Some battles just weren't worth it.

\-- 

CID was buzzing with low grade activity when Patsy walked in. Dyer was already tapping away at his desk and Patsy slid in front of her own without a word. Dyer looked uncharacteristically tired, Patsy noted, as her computer whirred into life. He had bags under his eyes and Patsy wondered if Val had tried proving something to herself with him last night.

Which was, there was no other word for it, plain horrible. 

Speaking of plain horrible; Patsy had tried Trixie again on the drive in to work. Nothing but the voicemail had replied and Patsy couldn't help but worry what was going on. She hoped the couple were sorting themselves out but even so... she'd drive by after work. Just to check.

Chewing the lid of her pen, Patsy turned her thoughts from Val and Trixie, she had work to do and the ideas gnawed at her. She needed to check to see if she was right. 

Patsy spent a good hour flicking through data bases, emails and, finally, several YouTube videos. Her attention was caught by a new email from Chummy. Pathology reports and an addendum regarding Ferns contribution to the case. Patsy reread the email several times before tapping out a few more queries. The path clearing as she went.

Then she went to see Urusula. 

Their discussion was a brief affair in the stuffy little office with its blinds drawn shut and the artificial lighting weak. Urusula did not Question Patsy too much, preferring to listen while Patsy offered her views. 

"You make a compelling argument Mount.' Urusula said, when Patsy had finished, over her fingers which she'd propped on her chest, clasped together as though in prayer. 'It reflects my own responses from Manchester... Horrible business all of it." 

Patsy bobbed her head in agreement and waited for some cue or tell to let her know what The Boss wanted to do next. She didn't have to wait long. 

Before long Patsy was scuttling back to her desk as Urusula stepped slowly out into the room behind her. Patsy heard the slap of palm on palm as the older woman clapped her hands so everyone paused.

"Right guys we have a new lead on our murdered nun case so I want everyones undivided attention!"

Everyones head turned obligingly from various pursuits to watch The Boss pace past desks to lean against a long abandoned white board near the end of the room. Unlike the movies it was not the teams practice to place pictures of their victim with a complex and often pointless spider diagram of witnesses and suspects on the board. Email had been invented a while back and its inclusion within modern policing had not been found wanting amongst the crime fighting denizens of Poplar, and besides, writing on walls was viewed as irritating show boating by most of the team.

Even as Urusula strode to a more central point, various posters flapped in the air from her passing, pinned with colourful magnets on the long forgotten board and beneath these was a half completed game of naughts and crosses, gifted by someone yet discovered, who'd accidentally used a permanent marker.

"We have a new motive; Mounts had word from a snout that this could be gang related. Albanian gang related. Now, there's been no word on the books to suggest it but a call to vice in Manchester has given me advise on the matter; the method of murder, fingerprints and teeth all correlate with this organisations hallmarks.

By all accounts these guys are clever buggers with a lot of fingers in a lot of pies including paying officers off.' Patsy sensed a slight cooling of temperature as everyones eyes glided about the room. No one wanted to be That kind of officer these days. Ursula ploughed on, apparently not noticing her teams uncomfortable shiftings. 'These boys are known for two things; drugs and trafficking and by the looks of things they've flooded the market with cheap synthetic crap. On that note; Mount, you have the floor." 

Urusula jerked a hand towards Patsy before leaning more comfortably against the wall. The rest of the team swivelled round to watch Patsy. Patsy couldn't help but notice that Dyers lips curled as he was forced to listen and look up to her. 

"Right, so,' Patsy cleared her throat awkwardly, looking down at her computer for a moment, marshalling her thoughts before fixing her gaze into a space a few inches above and a little to the left of Ursulas head. 'As you're all aware, in the last three weeks we've had a slew of OD's. I've lost five informants to this new shit but there's more dead that haven't popped up on our radar, I'm sure of it. 

My informants tell me the Albanians plan to get rid of the waste before starting on moving their new gear in; that means we're looking at major organised units. Over the weekend I managed to get my hands on some of the new drugs and the Toffs had a look. It's synthetic stuff, nasty imported crap. The Toff says it started in America and its street name is Zombie. So far there hasn't been documented cases this far east; lucky us, we're the first ones.' 

There were a few raised eyebrows at this. Everyone had heard about legal highs causing trouble in big cities but not in Poplar. Heroine still ruled the streets here. The major issue for police was that legal highs didn't show up in urine tests and they had longer life cycles once ingested. A few horror stories had followed from recruits swapping over from bigger forces. No one wanted that for Poplar. Patsy waited for a moment to let the thought settle in before going on.

'It's not a surprise that our junkies are dying, this stuff attacks the frontal lobes and' Patsy rechecked Chummys email, 'floods the system with dopamine. It's almost 500 times stronger than street crack so it's no surprise our kids can't handle it. It's 100 times more addictive than heroine and theres a sucker born every minute so we can't let it get any bigger. In America those who don't die have massive brain injuries, haemorrhages mostly. We need to nip this in the bud people." 

"This sounds like a load of old tosh to me.' Dyer grunted, folding his arms and scowling at Patsy. He didn't seem to be enjoying the experience of Patsy taking lead. 'Heresay and rumour mongering. There's nothing on the books of any of it and no proof your snouts even telling the truth. Who is it by the way, who's to say they aren't spinning you a yarn?" 

A few heads nodded but they didn't look certain, it seemed to be happening more out of a habit than anything else. Encouragingly though Patsy saw a few eyes narrow and fingers could be faintly discerned tapping purposefully on keyboards. Checking facts for themselves.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information at the moment' Patsy replied primly, watching Urusula who gave no sign she favoured either of her subordinates. The Boss merely watched from her place 'but I assure you the informations good. This threat is looming on us and if we don't get a grip-"

"If we don't get a grip.' Dyer repeated in a high sing song mock, looking round the room for support which did not come, 'fucks sake Mount you seem to have forgotten the one big issue here. Evidence? Real police can't just swerve on hunches. What about the nun? You reckon she was blowing some of these Albanians. As usual we're getting off point."

"Chummys confirmed she wasn't pregnant and I'm getting to my theory about Winnifred." Patsy said tersely and a few head bobbed in response. A few more computers whirred as databases were drawn up.

Dyer rolled his eyes looking pained and muttered.

"Another bloody theory." 

Patsy ignored him.

"My theory is Winnifred saw something, noticed something.' Patsy allowed the conviction in her voice to take center stage. Refused to let her head drop an inch as she stared Dyer down. 'My informant says she was knocking on doors, trying to find out what she could. The death correlates with a hit; the teeth, the fingerprints. It all fits. I think she knew something and it got her killed. Maybe she worked out what these guys were up to." 

"Which is what exactly? Selling drugs to druggies. Even nuns couldn't be shocked by that." Dyer had tried for politely disbelieving but his irritation showed through. He sounded petulant and Patsy hoped everyone saw him for what he was.

"Not just drugs.' Patsy said through gritted teeth, wishing everyone wasn't watching them so she could at least swear at Dyer. 'People Phil. Drugs and Trafficking. That's these guys MO remember. The nuns go all over the town, we know Winnifred was missing half a day before uni, she could have seen something she wasn't supposed to." 

There was a chilled silence as everyones mind seemed to be ticking audibly. Trafficking. It didn't happen here of course but everyone had done the mandatory training.

Trafficking circled around three spheres. Women and children brought in from elsewhere to supply the demand for prostitutes and pornography. The women would be told they'd be travelling for a better life and often paid to be smuggled only to find themselves trapped in a foreign land to be treated less than a peice of meat. 

The kids? Easy pray for paedophiles and so much safer than traditional options. Afterall, it made sense, why steal a child that will be shown on the six o clock news when you could spend a few thousand hard earned quid for one that no one would miss. It made tracking impossible between national borders for the police and in the meantime for those kids...

The blokes were sold mainly for slave labour, worked to death in the agricultural market, fed on less than a handful of food a day and kept in appalling conditions. Starvation happened to the lucky ones. 

And the final option applied to just about anyone that the traffickers could get their hands on. Organs. Harvesting live specimens for the elites health complaints. Vice had cracked countless illegal factories pumping out these organs. The conditions were awful and thus far it didn't appear the victims were put to sleep. Barbarism in modern Britain. You had to love it.

Patsy took a deep breath.

"If they're trafficking people we need to work out how, we need to check cargo haulers, trawlers and any local knocking shops. The madams will know if there's unusual competition; new meat selling cheap tail."

"We're not equipped for that sort of thing.' Ged said in a worried voice, looking down at his screen, his glasses reflecting blue light. Patsy pursed her lips at him. Ged was a decent man but he was most comfortable behind a computer. He had three kids too, he hadn't signed up to fight gangs. 'We need to call vice if it's crossing into city work. What if we're stepping on someones investigation?" 

"I've checked this out already Ged.' Ursula answered calmly, standing straighter again. 'Vice have operations in Manchester, Liverpool and London but this case falls under our jurisdiction. So I need all ears to the ground. Anyone got contacts with Smiths and O'donnells? Get them in, turn over the stones and look at what crawls out. 

If someones got a cage I want it rattled. Get anything you can and report back here to me and remember this; the Albanians are serious players, that means we need to expect them to be packing blades or guns.' There was another ugly pause and a few hisses. Guns weren't particularly unknown in these parts, plenty of farmers had firearms licenses but getting shot on duty was unheard of. Gun crime didn't exist in Poplar. 'Anything like that you call for back up immediately and I want you all in vests when out and about. I don't want to be signing anybodies death notes. Phil!" 

There was a great scraping of chairs and cracking of keyboards as the team got glumly to their feet. Dyer, who'd been lazily patting his pockets, looked up sourly to Urusula. 

"Ma'am?" 

"I want you to go back to the convent, pick the nuns brains. They all go out, one of them might have seen something too. If so I need you to bring them in. Ask about any new paritioners, that kind of thing." 

Dyers chest expanded as he threw a dirty glance towards Patsy as if to make sure she was aware of the important task he'd been assigned. The look turned irate though when Ursula also cast a look towards Patsy. 

"Mount, I want you to go to the school, get a better feel for the kids. Could our victim have seen something to do with them, maybe she had brought up something she'd seen with a colleague about these Albanians?" Urusulas face was devoid of emotion as she spoke and Patsy nodded seriously. 

"Yes ma'am, I've got a contact there already. One of the other teachers said she'd get Winnifreds paperwork for me to go through." 

"Good, good work Mount, get going both of you. Oh, and someone needs to speak to that vicar. He might have heard something too." 

"I'll do it.' Patsy volunteered as Dyer stomped out of the room, muttering under his breath about women. 'I need to pop my head around the vicarage anyway." 

Urusula peered at Patsy in the suddenly empty office, her eyes momentarily soft. 

"Good job constable Mount, we'll make a sergeant of you yet I feel. Now, get out of here, you're making the place look untidy." 

Patsy waited as Urusula turned back to her office and began to walk before hesitating. Should she ask Ursula about The Master? Should she tell the old battleaxe about her concerns?... 

Maybe not. It would make her look weak and Patsy wasn't that. 

With nothing more to say here, the door of Urusulas office closing with a soft snick, Patsy took a deep breath. Delia was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, apologies, I'm late people. In my defence though, I have a tiny human staying with me who demands much of my attention. Luckily, he's cute and he gives me good excuses to lay in watching mindless kids movies. Gnomeo and Juliet, I'm looking at you.
> 
> Just a short one this week but given I've not been able to focus on this I needed a short one to get back in the game and back up to speed, plus theres about to be a lot of romance and relationship stuff so the police element needed a moment.
> 
> Incidentally, its my birthday this Thursday and in deference to this fact I wanted to have some fun so; anyone got any prompts for one shots they want to read? Lay em on me, I've got a long weekend off and fancy doing a few little ficlets outside of this.
> 
> SB x


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a liar, been a thief, been a lover, been a cheat.   
> All my sins need holy water I feel it washing over me.   
> Oh, little one   
> I don't want to admit to something if all it's going to cause is pain.   
> Truth is my lies are falling like rain-   
> so let the river run.
> 
> Eminem ft Ed Sheeran.

Poplar school really was lovely. 

Patsy peered at it over her steering wheel from the comfortable swelter of the jeep parked just outside. The ofsted sign fluttered dully in the June heat against the green painted gates and a haze drifted off in the distance from the black tarmac of the playground. 

Given the midday heat it wouldn't be much longer until the doors were opened and the flood of freshly fed kids would spill out to do whatever it was they did on the wild west world of the play ground. 

Patsy checked her phone eagerly for any messages from Trixie or Delia but alas was not over run with texts of women begging for her attention. She tried not to feel sulky about this fact as she stubbed out her cigarette on the window and dropped it down the closest drain. 

A small but considerably loud part of Patsys hind brain nudged at her steadily as the school gates loomed up ahead. The car park for the staff was situated around the back and Patsy, a natural planner, had already done a quick reconnaissance to check the cars. 

A small blue Morris minor had caught her attention as she'd peeked in. The car was old enough to be her Jeeps grandfather and smacked of collectible classic. Something, instinctive but irrationally depressing at the same time, told her that one of the lesbians in the building owned it and while she usually disliked stereotypes of that nature simply because being asked who was the boy wore thin on the third or fourth time round... stereotypes happened for a reason and Delia hadn't had a car like that on the drive which left Phyllis unless there was another closet case stacked up in a broom closet Patsy hadn't stumbled on yet.

A Morris minor eh? Patsy smiled as she pressed the buzzer and felt the gates swing open under her fingers a few moments later. So Phyllis Crane had hidden depths and a slight tendency to peacock... Well, that was alright by Patsy. Helen needed a bit of colour in her life, Patsy may have been the cherry bomb on Helens life canvas a decade or so ago but maybe Crane could give her something new. Lavender bomb perhaps?

Mind you... Patsy frowned at her own reflection in a classroom window as the central corridor surged ahead. If the two of them started being twee together she would struggle not to be a little sarcastic. Would they do the dating thing? Where abouts would two mature professionals go? Patsy amused herself with the mental image of sitting in a row behind Helen and Crane at the cinema with a ruler and casually measuring the distance between their faces every now and again as she stepped into the office corridor.

Helens ancient adage regarding dating floated back through time; no full snogs on the first date kids. Ha! Patsy allowed herself a faintly evil smirk. See how she liked it the big hypocrite, by the sounds of it Helen had gone way past snogs after that bus journey.

"Please miss; I need a fresh ink cartridge. Miss Busby said-" A small pre adolescent voice whined through the air and cut through Patsys childish imaginings.

"Slip or nothing doing Tim. You know my rules." A quelling female timbre joined the verbal symphony in a discord of disdain.

"You gave James one the other day when he-" The named and apparently defeated Tim accused mutinously. 

"Slip or nothing young man and I'll have none of your lip or Miss Crane will speak to you."

"Please miss-"

"Slip or nothing Tim, now get back to lunch some of us have work to do you know." 

A sound like plastic sliding against plastic slithered through the hall and Patsy strolled down the corridor slowly until the voices gained faces. 

Timothy was standing at a clear hatch looking slightly crestfallen and far too lanky to be in a primary school while a woman with far too much top lip hair glowered at him. The scene was reminiscent of a Christmas carol; Ebeneezer counting his coal.

Patsy hid a smile. Hitler's were everywhere you went; it was all part of the school system to teach the kids to expect a spiky pineapple in the fruit basket of life. Even so the kid looked fairly bummed out and Patsy decided to take pity on the situation. Pineapples usually hid apples if you knew how to look at them. That was a lesson worth learning too.

"Afternoon Tim, what's got you waiting out here then?" 

Tims head snapped round at the new voice and then his face burst into a grin as he realised who was addressing him. Patsy found her skin prickling uncomfortably at the positive response. Geez, what was with all these kids suddenly liking her so much. It would be annoying if she wasn't secretly pleased about the whole thing.

"Constable Mount!"

Tim scuttled over to stand a foot away, hatch ignored for now, rocking on his heels with his hands held behind his back like a toy soldier standing in front of a general. 

"Hey kid. How's life?" Patsy eyed the boys features warily. He looked a bit pale she decided eventually but maybe Delia had been right; his folks seemed to be looking after him at least.

Lucky lad. 

"I'm fine; just trying to sort out my pen." The pen in question was duly raised for Patsys inspection. It was one of those biros you could refill.

"Stella work lad but I was asking more about yourself. Everything alright in your head?' Patsy cringed at her poor attempts at soft talk and internally berated herself for not checking up sooner on the lad. Careless. 'Has anyone been along to offer you some support? We've got a few nice ladies who can be good to talk to about... stuff if you want it?" 

Patsy watched as Tims chin hardened. A boy trying to be a man. 

"No. I'm fine." He said emphatically. Patsy nodded as though she believed him to save the kids pride but reached for her pocket anyway. 

"If you say so but just so you know; I'm about if you change your mind. Anytime kid. Crime doesn't sleep so why should we." She extended her card to the boy who took it automatically.

"You sound like my dad. He's always out and about."

"Your dad would be Dr Turner?" Patsy asked with only a little interest. The good doctor and his good wife seemed pretty close to picture perfect as you could get.

"Yeah... He said you police officers work almost as hard as the nurses.' Tim flicked his nail against the edge of the card for a moment absentmindedly, the light dimming in his face as he thought about what it was the police did perhaps. What they had taken from the beach. Patsy watched him closely and saw another child thinking much the same thing. Before.

Then Tim rallied as something left field abruptly pushed into his head.

"I told my friend Jake you let me in your jeep. Is it here? Can I show him?" Hope peeked out from the boys sincere face like a bull frog from underneath a leaf and Patsy nodded wryly pointing back the way she'd come. 

"Yeah, right outside the gates. Tell you what; if you're still out playing when I get out I'll even flash the lights for you." 

The boy beamed and looked over his shoulder towards the main hall with an air of expectancy. 

"Your mate waiting for you? Better get back there then." Patsy ordered gently and was relieved when Tim nodded and did as he was told. He walked in a constant double step, Patsy noticed wryly, as though he was trying to make up more time, more distance. He'd grow into a big man soon enough but Patsy hoped something of the young boy who smiled at flashing lights would linger. The world could use more of that stuff.

Patsy watched him bustle importantly down the hall and into the lively land of the lunch room a shade wistfully. She'd been older than him when kind strangers had fished her out of that rancid butt, the fire had still been burning ash into the air, it had taken almost a week to stop entirely, there'd been festering wounds in her back from too long spent dipped in water. She'd had a lifetime of repression winding out from her even then, as she'd been told she was safe and she recalled to this day how none of it had made the slightest impact. How could it have? All she'd been able to hear was screaming, everyone she knew dying in slow motion above her for hours on end.

She dreamt of those screams sometimes; the dreadful way they had cut off one by one until it was just her left. Alone.

The ever present and unwanted tang of sadness she dragged on her shoulder bit down hard. Stupid. It was stupid to want to change things now, perhaps impossible in some ways, but still... What she wouldn't have given to have had a different life, a different story. 

She sighed and forced herself to look away from the place Tim had gone and busied herself instead on the task at hand. Down from her and to the left was a door that said staff room on a small brass plaque. Patsy eyed it dubiously. Delia or no Delia the idea of stepping into stale coffee smell and a hoard of bored teachers gearing up for their summer holiday wasn't all that appealing. Besides... Phyllis was probably in there and Patsy wasn't particularly keen to get drawn into Helens tangled love life. She had enough trouble dealing with her own most days. 

Should have kept the boy around and sent him in to call Delia out. 

Someone coughed from behind her. The cough was a small thing, done politely but beneath it was the definite suggestion that impoliteness could be arranged if required. Patsy twitched guilty like she'd been caught doing something indecent as she realised that she wasn't, in fact, alone. 

The woman who'd been giving Tim a hard time was peering out at Patsy suspiciously through the plastic partition. There was a distinct "net curtain" vibe emulating out from the local area around the hatch. Patsy unfroze from her guilty rictus just in time to hitch what she hoped was a winning smile onto her face and edged towards the hatch. 

The womans features weren't much more appealing close up. She had a spectacular moustache perched on a thin, wrinkly top lip - the sort a World War One general would have wept to wear, she also had a hooked nose and sharp grey eyes that were even now peering at Patsy as if daring her to ask if she too could have an unsigned for pen cartridge. 

"You constable Mount?" The woman asked with absolutely no preamble whatsoever. 

Patsy bit down the urge to look behind her lengthily. Something told her sarcasm would not be her friend when dealing with this woman.

"Err yes. I am...Guilty as charged." She hazarded this nervy add on hoping to crack the womans facade somewhat. She failed. The woman's moustache bristled as she sucked her tongue. 

"I've got a package for you." The woman huffed importantly to Patsy. Patsy watched saying nothing as the hatch was slid open a little further and the face disappeared for a moment. Alas the absence was short lived and then the hag returned, grumbling under her breath slightly and heaving something square in her hands. A small stack of paperwork was swiftly pushed through the slot. 

Patsy stared at it non plussed. 

"This is for me? I thought Miss Busby was going to give it to me herself?" 

The woman sniffed and inclined her head to peer at Patsy a little closer. Her glare made it clear that she thought Patsy was being impertinent somehow. 

"She's busy. Told me to send her apologies and give this to you when you turned up." 

The paperwork was pushed forward with more insistence but Patsy didn't move to take it. 

"Is she in there?" Patsy pointed with a cocked thumb towards the staff room and watched the woman muttered something under her breath as she was momentarily forced to haul the pile back slightly to stop it from falling onto the floor. 

"No, she's in her classroom. She keeps herself to herself that one." The woman sniffed again. Her tone said clearly that she disagreed with keeping oneself to oneself. 

Patsy glanced at the pile, then the staff room and then up the corridor indecisively; ignoring the continued sniffing and the urge to suggest beechums plus Patsy checked her phone. There wasn't a text from Delia. 

She hesitated as she looked at the phone. Maybe Delia was busy, maybe she didn't have time... Patsy shouldn't impose on the woman... But she'd been looking forward to this and anyway, a quick hello wouldn't take too much time up. 

You never knew, perhaps she could suggest a drink at the pub after work if Delia seemed keen and then after the pub... 

Patsy snapped up her head when Moustache gave a particularly loud fake cough and smiled politely.

"Keep it warm for me, I'll just pop my head round the door and say good afternoon. Thanks." 

Patsy didn't wait to see if this non negotiable request was met with displeasure or not. She was already speeding away from the hatch and the outraged grumble. The lunch hall was coming up on her left as the loud cacophony of a bell trilled from outside. Within the hall came the sound of lunch boxes slamming closed and many small feet getting up from tables to play. 

Patsy picked up pace and managed to get to the wet room outside of Delias classroom just as doors opened behind her and shouts and whoops drifted out. Somewhere a whistle blew. 

Patsy caught her breath and shut the wet room door as quietly as she could. Delias classroom was shut when she reached it. Light peeked around the frame of the door and tempted Patsy in but, just as she raised her hand to knock, she hesitated slightly.

It was strange Delia changed the plan without telling her... Did it mean something that she'd left the papers with moustache or was Patsy just being a girl over it?... Maybe Delia hadn't been expecting her until after school and wanted to make sure no matter what Patsy got what she needed? Patsy bit her lip and stared at the door in front of her like it might start talking to her. It didn't.

After a few long minutes of Patsy dithering she threw caution to the wind and just gave in. She knocked on the yellow wood loudly in a show of brocade mainly for her own benefit but didn't wait for a reply before turning the handle and letting herself in. 

The classroom was exactly the same as the last time she'd been in here. Child sized desks and chairs were ranged about the room in various state of studious occupation. Colourful drawings plastered the old and faded walls. 

Patsy marked the details haphazardly, her eyes doing the work out of habit as her brain zeroed in on its focus of attention. 

Delia. 

Delia was sat behind her desk, sleeves rolled up to her elbow in concession to the ever present heat with a pile of workbooks stacked neatly beside her. She'd closed the blinds to the window to stop glare but the air was still a muted, hazy gold from the drifts of summer weather outside. Dust mites danced in the glow lines that cut through the air where the blinds met smooth wall. Patsy thought that she looked quite beautiful just sitting there. The honey light had turned her face a beaten bronze and it flecked along the edges of her dark hair drawing the mind to the way it might look tangled through fingers...

Patsy felt something tug in her chest and an odd sense of contentment stole over her as she took the scene in. 

Delia had been caught in the act of plucking a mint to her mouth as Patsy entered. The brunette appeared surprised to hear someone enter her class during the golden hour and her head turned to the newcomer instantly. It seemed to take a few seconds for Delia to register who had walked into the room at first, her hand hovered in midair with the shining white of the mint clasped between her fingers before she reanimated jerkily with a half cough. 

"Don't worry it's only me." Patsy found herself whispering for some inexorable reason and gave a rather pathetic small wave at hip height in further greeting as she sidled further away from the door. Unfortunately, perhaps because she was so pleased to see Delia, Patsy did not notice the way Delia didn't smile in return or the way that the perfunctory twitch of her mouth she did give didn't quite meet the Welsh womans clear blue eyes. 

"Constable Mount. Did Sam not see you on your way in?" The question was polite and professional. Distant. There wasn't any warmth there and it wasn't what Patsy had been expecting; it brought her up short.

"Sam?' Patsy grinned thinking of moustache having such an innocent name. 'You mean the watcher at the gate has a name? Yeah, she mentioned something about it but I thought I'd drop by. I'm a woman of my word after all." 

"Sams a good colleague. Trustworthy." Delia replied quietly still sounding oddly formal and Patsy immediately worried that she'd offended somehow.

Jesus, foot in mouth already Pats? Give it a minute or so.

"I'm sure she's great when you get to know her. I just meant- well, I suppose I'd rather see you that's all." Patsy felt her cheek pink slightly at the admission and threw Delia a swift glance to see her reaction. 

"You're very kind." Delia had turned her gaze down to her desk as she spoke but the tone didn't seem to fit the words and there was an awkward pause as Patsy hovered on the periphery; confused and waiting.

Delia hadn't asked her to sit, hadn't offered any sign of welcome yet.

Watching the Welsh woman carefully, Patsy weaved through the tables and chairs to sit on the edge of a table closest to the Delias desk. A few chair legs squeaked at her boots clumsy passing and the air seemed to thicken as the silence grew and rebounded. 

Delia didn't look up though her eyes were moving side to side and her fingers still clasped the uneaten mint.

On closer inspection Patsy thought Delias face looked shuttered almost. There was ink on a few of her fingers and a broken biro snapped in half near the workbooks looked as though it was the likely culprit. Delias mobile phone was also laying on the desk not too far away from hands reach in front of her as though she was waiting for a call. 

Again Patsy worried she was getting her foot in it. Perhaps Delia truly was busy in which case Patsy was in the way. 

Stupid.

"Hope I'm not intruding." Patsy said pointlessly now she'd entered, inclining her head towards the phone. Delia glanced down at it, her brows furrowing, as though she'd forgotten it was even there and hurriedly shook her head in a mute no. 

"What can I help you with officer?" Delia sounded very calm, her accent curling around the words sweetly but there was that distance again. It was unsettling.

Patsy teetered on the edge of concern before making a conscious effort not to take too much notice of the fact Delia hadn't looked directly at her yet. A sense of unease coiled in Patsys gut but she ignored it for now. 

Delia was clearly busy so she'd be quick. Maybe a trip to the pub might be welcome if something was playing on her mind.

"I've got a few questions about Winifreds class and possibly your own?" She said in her gentlest tone of voice. To Patsys growing confusion Delias eyes narrowed slightly at the relevant question but remained glued to the desk top. 

"Anything I can do to help with the case officer." She replied rather coolly. 

"Right.' Patsy frowned at the woman uneasily. Delia still wouldn't look at her for some reason. What was going on? Disconcerted, she coughed before resting on things that she did understand. 'Albanians? Do you have any kids that are enrolled here of that nationality or could you think of any way Winnifred may have come into contact with people from that group?"

For the first time Delias head drifted upwards, her eyes seemed to waver as it neared Patsys vicinity and eventually slid just to the left of Patsys ear ad she frowned at mid air. 

"Albanians? Why?" 

"Just a line of enquiry we're exploring at the minute Delia.' Patsy answered smoothly, 'Are there any children?" Patsy wasn't focusing on the reply too much, she found herself trying to catch Delias eye but failing to do so. Delia was looking back down at the desk again, her cheek pouching out slightly as she seemed to chew her tongue. 

"Hmm... Not here but Winnifred was doing outreach work with the labourers on some of the agricultural land. They bring their families over sometimes and because its only for three month stints the kids don't have to be enrolled. She was trying to get me to go out with her but I'd taken on some of her work here so I was declining for the most part." 

Patsy frowned as she eyed the brunette in front of her. Delia, without thinking, had discarded the first mint and plucked a one from the bag and began rolling it in her fingers. Patsy noted that she hadn't been offered any mints this time round.

"Any idea where the labourers could be found?" She asked with a low grade excitement flooding her veins; this was what she lived for after all, the thrill of the chase, the knowledge she was closing in on the bad guy. Delia gave the tiniest of shrugs.

"Farms probably Constable. She didn't give me post codes or anything. Any information she gave me is in those notes I left for you at the front desk." Delia sounded as though she had a faint head cold. Her tone seemed a dismissal. Patsy ignored it and lent forward on her knees to peer at Delia. 

She couldn't help but notice the continued formal use of names either. Officer mount eh? The other evening she was Pats.

"Could I ask one more question Miss Busby.' Patsy purposefully exaggerated the Miss and watched in satisfaction as Delias lip twitched. 'A personal one if you don't mind?" Patsys voice was unaccountably husky as she looked at Delias round pale face. The blue eyes met for just the briefest of moments before Delia looked back down again. 

"I imagine you will one way or another." Delia said almost resignedly. 

Patsy couldn't understand why the woman was being so distant. She'd been keen enough the other night. 

"It's just a question about enrolment really?" 

Patsy didn't know what madness made her ask the question. It was just that a part of her wanted to tell Delia about Fern and Seppie for whatever reason. Perhaps she wanted to show the woman that she was indeed a bonafide grown up. Perhaps she wanted to impress her.

Whatever Delia had been expecting, it didn't appear to be that. She blinked in surprise and with a sharp jerk of her neck she moved to look at the ceiling sightlessly. 

"Enrolment? As in putting a student into the school? It's all online? What did you want to know?" Curiosity burned like a beacon finally and Patsy signalled in to it feeling a shifting in Delias facade. An opening she could find a way into. 

"Just... Just for the future. If I ever need to know. I would value your opinions that's all." For one second Patsy saw the future clear as day. Dropping Seppie off to school in the mornings... God, it might work.

"Do you plan to have a lot of children in this school?" Delia sounded resentful now. She'd folded her arms tightly across her chest; the mint still dangling from her fingers. Patsy grinned thinking about Seppie and the girls smile should she get to go to school. Should Patsy pull off this miracle.

Patsy was going to buy her the biggest lunchbox money could buy. 

"Just the one maybe but you never know Deels. The futures a strange place." This, at last, had garnered some definite response from the reticent Delia but it was not the expected one. Delia blinked and to Patsys horror a single trickle of tears could be seen making its way down her nose. 

"Amazing,' Delia shook her head gently, her voice strangely hoarse. She was peering over the desk white faced at Patsy, wiping dazedly at her cheek, as though she was seeing Patsy for the first time. 'Have you been this obvious the whole time?"

Patsy, all at once, became very aware of the heat in the stuffy classroom, the tang of dust and crayons on the air. Instinct screamed at her to walk away as the signs prompted her to wonder- if she was a weather vain, would it be even now looming 'due shitsville'? None the less she forced her mouth into an innocent, uncomprehending grin. Her eyes took in the phone on the desk again though and distant cogs creaked in motion.

"Obvious?' Patsy raised her eyebrow and shrugged theatrically, 'well, even us mistresses of mystery have bad days I suppose. Have I done something wrong Delia?" Odd that Patsy sounded so calm right now because she didn't particularly feel it. Delia was looking at her as though Patsy had poisoned her puppy. 

"I had a phone call from someone you work with... Alice? I think you know each other." 

Delias face was an accusation all of its own and Patsy felt as though someone invisible had kicked the desk she perched on right out from underneath her. 

Alice? 

Patsy saw Alice once again giving her cassandraic warning at the front desk this morning and lent back slightly. Well... 

"I think I do, yes.' Patsy said with forced aplomb. 'What did she have to say for herself?" The blood was pulsing in Patsys lips as Delia looked down at her hands which were clasped limply on the desk. 

"She told me...' Delia took a deep breath through her nose as though she needed to pause to think through the itinerary before letting out a shaky laugh. 'She told me all sorts of things... About you actually."

Patsy stared; that answer was unhelpfully vague and made responding rather difficult. Mindfields were never fun places to tred. 

"And obviously she took the opportunity to tell you how good I am at juggling? Charity work, feeding orphans, that sort of thing?" Patsy felt like lead, the joke clanged between the two of them, flat and unwanted. 

"Huh,' Delia finally chose to look totally at Patsy just in time for Patsy to wish she wouldn't. The noise was like a puff of smoke, a lit fuse merrily chugging towards the dynamite laying in wait for them both. 'I didn't believe her at first you know.' Delia went on, her voice distant. 'But then I started thinking and...' She gave a hard laugh, shaking her head this way and that. 'You must have found this all so funny. You must have been laughing at me the entire time. A big joke-" Her voice wasn't distant now, the syllables rebounded as she grew in volume. Anger and betrayal lifting the accent into piques.

"That doesn't sound like me... ' Patsy struggled to keep her voice steady but through dint of effort just about managed to pull it off. She clicked her teeth. 'Look, I know Alice, she's an ex with an axe to grind- My fault, I'll hold my hands up to it but that doesn't mean everything she says is true." Patsy felt a trickle of heat growing down her neck. 

"What was this to you?' Delia seethed through gritted teeth, 'was it just a big fucked up game? Did you think you'd just fuck me for fun? What the hell kind of whore are you?"

"I'm not a whore, I don't get paid for anything and the women I sleep with want to." Patsy qualified out of reflex. Delia just went on as though she hadn't spoken.

"Playing games with peoples lives, is that what you do Patience?"

"No!' Patsy couldn't let that pass undefended. She hadn't. She didn't. She couldn't think of anything less amusing than the devastation brewing in the Welsh woman's face. 'I wouldn't do that. You've got me wrong there Delia." 

"Got you wrong?' Delia repeated coldly, 'So you haven't done everything Alice said? You didn't cheat on her? You aren't known for being a player? You haven't been having an affair with my significant other for months!" Delias voice continued to increase in volume as she went on, a blueish vein pulsing in her forehead as she glared at Patsy.

Patsy swallowed, her thoughts flying ahead of her lightning fast. 

"No! Not like she's said it.' She said desperately, fanning out her hands in front of her in supposition, 'I might have slept with someone else when I was with Alice but we were hardly together, I was trying to end it and she wasn't taking the hints."

"And Jessie? Was she wrong about that too?" Delia interrupted astutely, eyes flashing and Patsy felt her shoulders slacken. 

There it was. The prickly realisation that Delia knew. Not the whole of it perhaps but enough to hate Patsy. Damn Alice.... And damn herself for being so stupid. Delias fingers drummed agitatedly on the desk top and Patsy hesitated as she teetered on the edge of truth.

"She wasn't completely wrong-' Patsy said hesitantly, licking at her dry lips. 'But it isn't like she's said. Jessie turned up at the station and we had an argument yesterday. Alice made assumptions on what she saw. Assumptions that aren't true." Patsy endeavoured to push as much sincerity through the words as she could. It wasn't true. She hadn't done anything wrong yesterday, she'd made the right decision damnit!

Delias gaze took on a hollow edge as she sat straighter in her pleather backed chair, almost lifting herself on one arm off it in rising fury. 

"Argument?' Delia spoke slowly, weighing the words in her mouth, rolling them around her tongue. 'So I'm supposed to believe you haven't been sleeping with my partner of ten years then?" Delia already knew the answer. Patsy could read it in the woman's face. 

God, she'd really fucked this one up hadn't she?

"I- We." Patsy opened and shut her mouth, trying to wrestle her brain into some kind of order. It was hard. Guilt was dredging up the back waters of her thoughts. It made it difficult to think properly and through it all a distant but never forgotten voice called out through the years and asked silkily;

"And do you know the wages of Sin little bean?" 

Patsy pushed the voice away distractedly. Delia was still watching her. The vein still throbbed in her forehead, thick and pulsing. 

"You disgust me." Delia said eventually as Patsy worked to master herself. Patsy flinched from the flat certainty aimed at her. Delia sounded like a woman who'd made Decisions. 

Patsy hated that she cared so much about that fact. She actually cared. God! Ten years ago Patsy wouldn't have even bothered to explain herself. Five years ago she'd have probably taken Jessie up on her offer yesterday and still found time to get Delia into bed. Hell, even two years ago she'd have done something other than perch on this pathetically small desk and stare up at this woman she honest to God, don't tell Helen, liked. 

She was only vaguely surprised in a background way to realise she wasn't quite as much of a bastard as she thought she was. Woo freaking hoo. 

"I can understand why you might think that." Patsy managed eventually in a very small voice. Delias nostrils flared; she seemed to be vibrating with so much anger it looked as though she was in danger of levitating a foot off the floor. 

"Have I got to get tested?' Delia growled, 'Have you given me something? How long have you been fucking my girlfriend?" 

Far away a ball bounced off the window behind Delias head. Small voices laughed. The tweeting sounds were a mockery to them both as they glared at one another. Patsy could feel a small part of her rebel at the insinuation from Delia but tempered it down quickly. She was the one in the wrong here after all. 

"No." Patsys own teeth were clenched so tightly together the words were muffled and she watched Delias chest heave in response. 

"No what, officer Mount? No, you haven't given me an STD by proxy or no you aren't fucking Jessie?" Delias eyelids looked harshly pink against the pale skin of her face. Patsy sucked her tongue and stood up. 

The table creaked as she pulled herself to her feet. As casually as she could manage she brushed convulsively down her front, smoothing the shirt pointlessly. 

"No, I don't have an STD. No I haven't given you anything. In the last six months I've slept with one woman and trust me; she's not yours." Patsy said heavily and watched in rising resentment as Delias lips peeled back in cynical disbelief. 

"Likely story.' She hesitated for a moment and then stood up too, the desk a mere block of tangible divide between them. 'Women like you-" She started but Patsy held up a hand and was relieved to find that it worked. Delias chin lifted perceptibly in obvious affront.

"I think I can imagine,' Patsy said tiredly; whore, slut, bitch, she'd heard it all. 'Trust me, it's been said before... I'll leave now though, save your time.' She turned to leave, knowing that was the right thing to do but some residue pride made her pause and look back wanting to defend herself from the revulsion emanating from the small Welsh woman. Sighing at her own bullheadedness, Patsy pivoted on one boot and stared at Delia dead in the eye. 'Look; I apologise okay. Whatever you think about me you're well. within your rights to do so but it isn't what you think. 

It was once, last year in some pub out in the stix, long before I knew you existed and she didn't tell me she wasn't single. She didn't tell me her real name either. I'll take the hit if it helps with whatevers going on between you two but I had no intention of harming anyone. Despite what you've been told in regards to me I haven't done anything to purposefully hurt you Delia." 

Patsy meant it. Wished she'd been better and watched in satisfaction as Delia seemed to waver slightly. Her eyes flashing in confusion until-

"You should have told me." Delia whispered it like she was letting a secret go grudgingly. Patsy shook her head miserably. 

"When? When should I have told you? What had you done to me for me to hurt you like that? Would it have helped?" 

"I... You bought me a bike pump and took me home and listened to me and I thought you were interesting and... I've been such a fool." A flush surged down Delias cheeks and she looked embarrassed and angry; at herself, at Patsy, but not, Patsy noted, at Jessie. Not yet. 

Patsy took a step forward so the desk bumped against her knees. Delia didn't move back; just watched Patsy with dark, mistrustful eyes. 

"You haven't been anything.' Patsy said in the kindest voice she could manage. 'I should have done something differently and Jessie-"

"Don't talk to me about Jessie!" Suddenly Delia was angry again. Her body jerked like Patsy had struck her and she was recoiling backwards; squaring her shoulders against whatever demons howled at her. Patsy sucked in a breath and watched sadly as Delia wrestled with it all. 

"I didn't mean to- She treats you like a doormat. You're not happy and she-"

"And you're better?' Delia challenged hotly. 'Your friend Alice told me an awful lot about you Pats. You sleep with anything with a pulse and you do it for fun! What am I supposed to do with that information!" Delia ran her hands through her hair so it spiked up at the back in agitation and Patsy felt her spine stiffen. 

Without really noticing she rounded the desk so that finally they were inches apart. Almost inches apart. 

Almost.

Any closer and Patsy was beaten back by arms stronger than she thought they would be. Delia was fighting her, pushing at her arms and chest and Patsy was at a loss in how to fix what she'd broken but the indignation flared at the injustice of it all. She hadn't known.

But if she had would she have done anything differently? The reflective voice that often sounded like Helens poked at her. Made her angry at herself and Delia by default.

"You can be pissed I've slept with Jessie. ' she said through gritted teeth reaching out to capture one flailing arm after another. 'You can hate me for that and I'll not say one word against it. I deserve it... But you wanted me to tell you not a few minutes ago so here goes; she approached me like a pro in that bar. She fucked me and left straight after and that says a lot that she walked out before I did. She's sleeping with more than one woman I'll put money on it and you're stuck as the little wife at home. If you can live with that then that's your business but don't pretend that a part of you wasn't interested in me before you knew all of this." 

Delias lips curled but something like guilt sparkled in those eyes and Patsy knew she was being a bitch. Knew she should leave it but Delia was-

"Interested? Women like you make us all look bad...She loves me you know. Something someone like you probably couldn't understand."

Something snapped. Perhaps it was the dismissive tone Delia was using; maybe it was the way the Welsh woman assumed she knew everything about Patsy after one phone call. Whatever it was Patsy felt her eyes narrow and when she spoke it felt as though she was being choked. 

"Oh... I think I understand well enough thanks."

Delia seemed equally angry. Twin flames burning together. She finally pulled her arms away and forced through the remaining distance so they were pressed close together. Patsy noted she had to stand on the tips of her feet so that their noses connected at the tips.

"What do you understand exactly?' Delia hissed. 'Have you ever gone more than a month, no forgive me,' she sniffed dismissively, 'I'll be kind, a week without sleeping with some anonymous woman?"

"Nope, not a week.' Patsy barked back, her teeth bared but unwilling to move away. 'Usually I have a new one every other day, bank holidays off. Surprised I don't have carpal tunnel yet. I could make you cum like a steam engine without effort; Jessie sure did." 

"You disgust me." Delias said again with feeling but her eyes looked overbright this close up and Patsy inclined her head like a gentleman tipping his cap.

"No I don't. You wish you could be like me a little bit." She taunted and she noticed the curve of Delias lips shiver. 

"How dare-"

"You do!' Patsy interrupted quietly. 'Let me guess, you've probably slept with four, no, five women and now I'm being kind. You've been with Jessie ten years? Maybe we'll play pretend and say she's the one for you but we both know there is a part of you that hates the fact that it's only five, you day dream about having a shady past. Good girls like you always do but you never had the guts to do it." Delia was very warm this close up and Patsy felt nothing but cold. Cold and certain.

"Guts?' Delia looked Patsy up and down as if she was insane. Dangerous. 'I think you mean morals constable and for your information Jessie is The One." 

Patsy shook her head again at the stubborn line of Delias jaw and realised vaguely that she was enjoying this all a bit too much. The distance was so small it wouldn't take very much to change the dynamics of whatever was happening. 

A few years ago she would have done just that but... it wasn't the same anymore. This woman deserved better than that from Patsy.

"No she's not. She's absent and she doesn't give you her time. You've become the little wife to a bigger personality and you hate it. You're so bored it's spilling out your pores and dripping into the carpet."

Patsy was right. She didn't need to see the devastation pointing towards her. All of a sudden the anger evaporated as quickly as it had come and Patsy felt ashamed. She tried to step back but Delia followed her step for step until the desk was against the back of Patsys knees.

"That is...' Delias eyes looked far too wet again as she glared at Patsy. 'You have no idea what you're talking about. How could you? You've got no idea what commitment is, wouldn't know it if you came home and found it eating your dinner."

"Commitment?...' Patsy thought of Tom and Trixie and her mother and Helen and shook her head. She'd seen enough to know it hurt. Delia was pressing tightly against her still nose to nose and Patsy reached out blindly to prop herself up against the desk. 'Alright... lets go through it quickly.' Patsy cocked her head and took a deep breath. Maybe she knew more than most. Maybe she was just plain bitter but either way Delia should know some of it. The big bit no one ever talked about. Maybe Delia needed a lesson. 

'Why do two people choose to seek long term relationships? From the outside it's because of stability, companionship and mutual support right?' Patsy paused and saw the infinitesimal nod of Delias head in acknowledgment. 'You trust the other person to meet your needs and they meet yours.' Patsy thought of Val and sighed. 'Then you buy; houses, cars, pop out kids, your families meet and together you bumble through life hoping nothing too big stretches the ties bad enough to rip all that up.' 

Delia opened her mouth as if to interrupt but Patsy placed a fingers over her lips.

"Jessie's the one?' Patsy went on softly, ignoring the sensation of soft lips beneath her finger tips. 'Stability, fine, she's ticked that box, you've got a nice house and jobs. Companionship?' Patsy clicked her tongue, shaking her head in mock sadness, 'ahh but there's the snag. 

We've known each other two weeks tops, how many nights has Jessie actually been at your house? When you come home does she call? Does she ever ask about your day because she wants to know the answer or is it so she can talk about hers? Mutual support? You put money into her new firm you said? Does she ever do anything for you? Has she ever done anything like that for you? Has she? Go on, tell me you don't want that?" 

"That's the fairytale." Delia mumbled sadly looking at Patsys ear rather than her eyes as though she didn't want to see her anymore. Patsy shrugged. 

"And that's why I don't do commitment; I've not found anyone who wants to do that with me. Why settle?" 

Why settle? The words hung around them awkwardly as they stared at each other.

"I don't want you here." Delia said after a long pause and Patsy sagged feeling suddenly drained as Delia stepped back; her arms folded tightly against her chest. 

That was that then. Not a surprise really but-

"Delia?" Patsy had to try one last shot at redemption even if she couldn't explain why. Delia looked up, wiping at her eyes distractedly. 

"What?" Delia sounded resigned, lost and Patsy couldn't stop the guilt biting at her. She wanted to fix that pain but she'd caused it in part and besides... Someone like her would never get someone like Delia. Not if there was any justice.

"... Don't settle for someone like that. You deserve better." Patsy had thought to say it the cheap way people did at times like this but it came out shaky. She couldn't quite catch her breath. Delia let out a low chuckle; far too bitter to suit her. 

"And tell me, what do you think I deserve Pats?" 

Patsy wanted to kiss her. Wanted to be someone's hero for once but it didn't feel right. It was just a reflex from times gone by. Old habits wearing thin. Patsy meant it; Delia really did deserve better. So instead of a real kiss she surprised herself, her fingers shook only slightly as she reached out to clasp Delias hands. They felt small wrapped in her own. They fit though.

"Better than what you have. I know that." Patsy said it with an embarrassing amount of feeling. Delia didn't seem to notice; she was busy watching their hands entwined. She bit her lip. 

"It's not that easy you know." She whispered very quietly. Just an indrawn breath really. 

Patsy grimaced, wanting more and placed a single chaste kiss against the back of Delias hand before firmly letting it go. 

"The right thing and the easy thing aren't usually the same...' Patsys fingers burned where Delias warm hand had rested. She missed them. 'But I know which one I'd pick for someone like you." 

"Patsy."

Delia might have called Patsy back but Patsy didn't go; she didn't reply either because what was the point? She walked away heavily, leaving Delia to stare after her, already regretting what she'd said. Turning over new leaves wasn't all it was cracked up to be after all no matter what everyone said.

The door shut softy between them both.

Patsy tried not to think about how bad the truth of Delias words stung even as the old ghost whispered in the back of her mind.

"What are the wages of sin little bean?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas fitties, here's hoping a mythical old man broke into your homes and emptied his sack while you slept lol (seriously, its weird). Been sitting on this chapter too long feel like a broody hen pecking at words, need to let it go.
> 
> SB 
> 
> PS: were in a fizzy bottle stage, im shaking patsy and then the lids coming off lol, Delia will enjoy that.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go on, go on, come on; leave me breathless.
> 
> The corrs. Breathless.

"Constable Mount! Wait! I need to speak to you!" The cry was loud and hurried. Patsy recognised the voice in one and internally groaned.

She'd managed to get out of the building without being accosted and was almost at the gates. Why did she have to speak to someone right now and worst of all didn't have to be Barbara mousy Gilbert.

Patsy considered walking away from the little teacher but manners over rode her distaste as she recalled she was still on duty and she forced her feet to slow and stop. Turning on the spot she watched as Gilbert half jogged towards her and waited patiently to find out what was so important. 

"Have you... Heard?" Gilbert gasped drawing level. 

Patsy narrowed her eyes and tapped the toe of her boot impatiently.

"Heard what?" She asked irritably. A few feet jog and Barbara was wheezing, it didn't offer hope for poplars sporting success in future years. Looking at the back of the woman's head Patsy decided Barbara was the type of person who bought her own whistle from home to PE classes.

"He's left her.' 

Three words and Patsy was back in the moment, blinking stupidly. Barbara looked ashen faced but faintly defiant as she stared at Patsy. Patsys eyes narrowed. 

"Who-" she asked suspiciously although she thought she had a vague idea already.

"Tom.' Barbara replied breathlessly, almost as soon as Patsy had got the word out. 'Toms left his wife... You're her friend aren't you?" Barbara's face was ernest enough but Patsy felt instinctively that she could guess what had happened. 

And for what reasons too if it came to it. 

"I am." Patsy affirmed stiffly.

"Then you need to get round there. She's lost her mind; thrown Tom out of his own house and smashed the place to bits. Tom says she's demented." Barbara spoke as though she believed it but Patsy watched her face. Her eyes. Eyes always said more than the mouth most of the time. 

Guilt glinted back at her; recognisable in its familiarity.

"And you know this how?" She asked the little woman shrewdly. Barbara, perhaps to her credit, had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"He told me.' Barbara whispered, 'Text me actually; early this morning." 

There was an awkward pause as Patsy picked out her phone from her pocket and eyed the empty screen. No call from Trixie. 

"You two are good friends then? Tom and you?" Patsy asked delicately to her phone, her mind drifting from the here and now. She didn't bother to raise her voice; the morale high ground was for them that could take it. Patsy was the last person to lecture someone on sleeping with married people... Even so, Trixie would probably want her to lay the bitch out. 

"We...' Barbara hesitated for just a second and then squared her shoulders stubbornly, 'we're in love actually." 

Patsy didn't allow her face to change. Just pocketed the phone again with a sigh. 

"Oh." Fuck. Trixie was probably going to end up in the cells tonight if Patsy didn't get to her. Hopefully she wouldn't have killed Tom before Patsy arrived.

"I believe in soulmates you see constable and we're both very very sorry that this happened this way but you need to make her see sense. It's Toms house." Barbara was still speaking. Patsy frowned. Why was Barbara still speaking?

"Actually, the house belongs to the church. As married partners they both have rights and since he's the one who's been unfaithful she might have more of a leg to stand on." Patsy didn't know why she was bothering to reply. The nervous background whine in the womans voice was grating after a few seconds. She wondered if Tom had noticed it yet and if this would come to irritate him in a few days time when reality stuck in.

"He loves me very much, he's sorry he's hurt her though. Perhaps, as her friend... you could tell her that?"

Patsy surveyed the woman closely for a second before replying coldly.

"No. Good luck." 

Barbara's face shuttered in confusion. 

"He's leaving her to be with me." Barbara went on as though she needed to make it very clear. Patsy merely nodded courteously; already bored.

"Then I won't keep you from your happiness, if you'll excuse me, I've got somewhere I need to be." Patsy made to move but was called back as Barbara twitched.

"You're not going to shout at me?" Barbara seemed genuinely surprised. Patsy paused, feeling tiredness pull at her and turned to stare at Barbara. She made sure to stare just long enough to make the teacher shift uneasily. 

"Why should I shout at you?' She asked softly. 'You're a grown up, so's Tom. If it's right then it's right and besides... if it's not right you'll spend long enough shouting at yourself I promise you that." Patsy thought about Delia and Val sadly. Nothing other people said hurt as much as she'd hurt herself over this mess. Barbara was chewing her lip tensely, Patsy turned to leave her there. 

"I never planned to do this you know. This isn't what I dreamed of when I was a little girl. I never intended to hurt anyone." Barbara still sounded like a little girl to Patsys ears. Patsy scratched her nose wearily. 

"Miss Gilbert, by my reckoning the majority of us don't do what we planned as kids. If I'd followed the plan I wouldn't be here and if you'd followed your plan you wouldn't have stolen another woman's husband. Plans never really work out but what's happened is the reality. You put the boots on, you'll have to wear them.' Patsy hesitated slightly and then in a slightly kinder voice caught the woman's eye. 'It's up to you how you walk in those boots though. Good day."

Patsy was in the car five minutes later. The cab resounded all the way to the vicarage with answer phone beeps. Trixie wasn't picking up calls apparently.

\--

When Patsy arrived, some twenty minutes later thanks to traffic, outside the Vicarage all was suspiciously quiet. Too quiet. 

Toms car wasn't parked in the drive and no windows looked smashed in which was, Patsy told herself firmly, a good sign. The fairytale cottage looked as old and weathered and magical as it always did, shaded by the spire of the nearby church. The days heat made the road dusty and bleached while the air hung heavily around Patsys neck and throat in damp disarray as she got out of the jeep. 

Trixies phone was still going to answer phone but Patsy knew her friend and if she was right; Trixie would be drowning her sorrows in the house somewhere. Patsy just had to hope Tom had had the good sense to get out for a while. Patsy shook her head as she strode the short distance to the front door. Honestly, she'd always liked Tom in that awkward husband-of-friend way and she wasn't blind enough not to see that Trixie could be high maintenance but going for mousy seemed a rather beige down grade. Mind you, Tom was beige, Trixie was something of a peacock sashaying in the parish. The vicars beautiful and glamorous wife. 

Not any more it seemed. 

Patsy knocked on the door and waited for what she deemed an appropriate period of time before checking the handle. It wasn't locked. Patsy went in with only a small amount of trepidation. Trixie was Trixie and Patsy had quite a lot of experience with wronged women... Admittedly, that wasn't all that helpful considering Patsy was historically the wrong in the situation but still; every cloud, as Helen would say. 

The inside of the vicarage seemed similarly undisturbed until Patsy got to the door to the living room. Something crunched under her boot and she bent on her haunches to inspect it. Wedding photo; Tom smiling beatifically towards the camera as Trixie stood holding a bristling bouquet on one high heeled foot, the other flailing off as confetti swirled around their hair. Trixie looked happy and in love. It usually sat on the bookshelf but Patsy couldn't be certain if it's new placement was from throwing or dropping. The glass was cracked right down between the two inhabitants of the picture just like life it seemed. 

Patsy dropped it and kept going.

Patsy found Trixie in the kitchen eventually standing in much the same place Tom had stood the other night at the party. The window was open and a packet of cigarettes was placed beside a fancy ash tray. Trixie looked like a silent film star, framed in the fading light of the day, smoke curling around her head. Angel in smoke. 

Patsy remained in the living room keeping Trixie in line of sight through the kitchen door and cleared her throat noisily. She waited until she saw Trixie glance at the windows reflection. She didn't turn around to greet Patsy but her head tilted tipsily. Patsy looked a little harder at the scene and an empty bottle was sitting in the washing up bowl half hidden. Trixie was alarmingly good at hiding bottles; her dad had been an alcoholic, the shaky hands, depressive kind from what Trixie said. Patsy grimaced. That sort of thing sometimes carried through bloodlines even when a person tried to avoid it, although, Patsy up til now had always been careful not to let Trixie know she knew. No one could help what they came from after all. 

It was important to Patsy that she remembered that. Always. 

"I've been trying to ring you for the last half hour you know." Patsy announced loudly when Trixie didn't seem about to start talking.

"Turned it off." Trixie answered flatly smoking steadily, fingers tracing the curve of her neat kitchen work surface. 

Patsy spied something square near her foot and knelt to pick it up gingerly. She had to be careful not to cut herself, the glass was pretty ragged. 

"By throwing it?" Patsy asked calmly, raising the phone up between finger and thumb. Something inside the phone made a sad popping sound. Trixie pursed her lips and turned round. 

Patsy had to give it to her friend; Trixie could do drama better than any gay clic she could think of.

"I threw it at Tom... He deserved it." 

"So you left it friendly between you two then." Patsy supplied blandly, letting the phone fall back to the floor with two thunks as it split in half.

"How did you know?" Trixie asked; proud as a queen.

"I was at the school, saw Barbara and she told me." Patsy answered quietly. The house felt strangely cold and empty.

"Barbara?" Trixies cool voice faltered slightly, the barest hint of the pain festering beneath the facade broke through the cracks. Patsy slapped her hands against her side. 

"She told me you've thrown Tom out' Patsy took a step closer, 'that what you thought he'd done has been confirmed,' Patsy took another step and saw Trixies hands twitch around the paper cylinder of her cigarette, 'and that he told you everything this morning." Patsy finished it heavily with a dulcet raise of her eyebrows.

"So she knows,' Trixies eyes flashed dangerously and she sucked on the end of her cigarette hard, the tip flared cherry red. 'I expect she's been planning for this all these months. I expect they're happily planning their wonderful life together right now."

Patsy shrugged and took a step closer. 

"I'm not too interested in them right now; I'm here for you Trix, what do you need?"

"What do I need?' Trixie sounded dazed as though the question was too broad to answer. ' I don't know... A husband that isn't a cheating bastard... A drink,' Trixie pressed her finger tips to her eyes, 'for today not to have happened." 

Patsy watched her friend for a heartbeat, feeling tired and worn and ill equipped to handle such an ironic situation. Who would have thought it? Patience Mount comforting the wronged woman for a change. Twice in one day too. Patsy hoped this wouldn't become a habit, she hated all this emotional crap, she was no good at it. 

Trixie had given no further sign that she planned to do anything else and Patsy sighed heavily.

"Well... One out of three's the best I have for you sweetheart, where's the booze? I'm parched." 

Trixie stubbed out her cigarette slowly, grinding the tip deliberately hard into a glass ash tray already teeming with burnt out stubs. 

"I hate him." Trixie said hollowly. Patsy nodded and took another step.

"That's normal, hate is okay in this circumstance... I think that's normal." She comforted gently. 

"I hate you too." Trixie added harshly and Patsy paused before nodding again.

"That's because you're angry at everyone. That's pretty normal too I think. I'm still here for you even though you hate me."

"And how much have you been here?' Trixie asked in a wavering voice, Patsy paused as Trixie glared at her. The familiar look of mute suspicion hitting her with the force of a thunderbolt down an innocently opened umbrella. It was depressing how quickly things became Patsys fault. Sometimes she didn't even need to be there. 'Did you know? Would you have told me if you did?" 

"Trixie' Patsy began, ignoring the insult completely. 'I'm a lot of things... but you're my best friend; you get me in the divorce."

"What if I don't want you?" Trixie asked scathingly and Patsy chuckled.

"Then I'll stick around until you do want me again. That's what friends do Trix; all weathers. You want to shout, you want to scream and punch walls and get drunk and cry. I'll be there for you. I'll be your person."

"I don't want to cry." Trixie whispered, the words sounding false and brittle. Patsy nodded encouragingly.

"That's your choice. I'm here for you though whatever you want to do."

Trixie seemed to consider this for a moment, her eyes boring into Patsy and then she looked away, tsking under her breath.

"Get out."

"No.' Patsy flattened her shoulders and felt her jaw grow rigid with stubbornness. 'You shouldn't be on your own right now. I'll stay."

"This is my house!' Trixie shouted, her body seeming to curl slightly in the middle as she expelled anger. 'Get out Patience Mount or I'll, I'll,' Trixie looked about her frantically and landed on the ash tray by her hand. 'I'll throw things at you."

Patsy smiled sadly. 

"I'll dodge them... and then I'll look after you."

"Fuck you! I don't want anyone's help!" Trixie looked alarmingly serious and Patsy glanced at the ash tray.

"This isn't about want Trix, this is about what's needed. You're not alone, I'm here for you." 

"I don't want you here." Trixie reached to the counter and threw the glass ashtray at Patsys head. She swayed slightly with the force of the throw but it wasn't accurate. Patsy watched the glass smash against the wall behind her dispassionately. 

"Feel better?" She asked calmly, ignoring the clenching in her gut as tiny blocks of glass tinkled to the floor and onto the sofa behind her. 

"Get out!" Trixie said again a little shakily this time. Patsy lent back slightly and stared at the blonde, face impassive. 

"No. I'm here for you." She repeated heavily and took another step forward, they were feet apart now.

Trixie growled and reached further down the counter to a bottle rack. There wasn't all that many bottles left in it; how much had been drunk in recent days was impossible to discern but Patsy could guess who had drunk the lions share. Trixie looked red cheeked and her eyes were bloodshot. Her hands shook too as it dragged out a bottle clumsily.

Patsy raised her hands in surrender. 

"Trixie-" She said in a warning tone but Trixie was beyond listening to tones. She grunted as she let the glass hurtle from her hands. The bottle whirled over and over in the air, the smoked glass seeming to suck in light so that it drew the eye.

Patsy reacted with all the reflexes of a cop called in for too many bar fights; she turned side on and swung her arm backwards. The bottle flew too close for comfort near her face and followed the line of her arm until the neck was gliding past Patsys open hand. She caught the neck in its passage and brought the vessels momentum down with a single windmill turn of her arm. Trixie gasped as Patsy turned back to her with shadows in her eyes, the bottle clutched like a blunt weapon in her fist.

"You-" Trixie started in shock. 

Patsy shrugged self consciously and, more for something to do, pulled the bottle up for inspection as she endeavoured to control the shake in her voice.

"2004.' Patsy tried to nod like she knew what she was talking about and looked at Trixie with an apologetic grimace, 'good year that. Too good to smash across my pretty face Trix." 

They stared at one another, the moment balancing on a knife edge as the bottle weighed clumky in Patsys arm. The air seemed to crackle as Trixie sucked in a startled breath and then-

To both their surprise Trixie gave a kind of laughing sob, her eyes round like two saucers and her hand suddenly flung out to lay palm flat against the counter. Patsy relaxed finitessimally. 

"I just threw a bottle at you.' Trixie said in disbelief, her shoulders were shaking as laugh after laugh crammed up her throat, 'my husband has left me and I've just thrown... I've just thrown a good bottle of wine at... Pats!" 

Patsy saw the laughter fade almost as quick as it had come and then the tears spilled out thick and fast. 

Patsy dumped the bottle on the side in one smooth movement and cut off the distance. Trixie fell into her arms like a child seeking comfort and together they slumped to their knees on the mayhem strewn floor. 

Patsy didn't bother to say much more for a while. Trixies whole body heaved in a pain that words couldn't help. She tried the shhing noises Helen was so fond of at times like these and squeezed Trixies shoulders so hard it was a wonder Trixie could breathe to cry but after what felt like hours but probably wasn't Trixie ran out of water and just lay limp and snotty on Patsys shoulder. 

It was a testament to their friendship that Patsy didn't mind the fact she would need to boil wash this jacket. 

Wordlessly, Patsy took another bottle of wine from the rack.

"My mother hated him you know. Said a man like that was too good to be true." Trixie said eventually, voice distant. Patsy shrugged.

"He's a silly boy but I think he'll come back. That girl won't keep him on his toes." 

Trixie snorted and tapped the bottle on the tiled floor.

"Here here."

\--

The next few hours seemed to just be a litany of drinking with occasional one offs thrown in but eventually Trixie seemed to reach a philosophical empasse possibly aided by the copious amounts of wine they'd both consumed.

"Well, I've de-de-decided, I'm giving men up; they're no good to me. I'm joining your gang." Trixies shoulders swayed slightly as she slurred her declaration.

"My gang?' Patsy repeated smiling. 'Police or the other one; either way you almost make us sound cool."

"You are cool. And reliable. Men are- cheating, lying bastards." Trixie, who's chest puffed out as she spoke, curled back up, apparently winded on the floor where she was laying.

"Yes well... Women aren't much better so I'd stick with what you know." Patsy considered mentioning Val and Jessie as exhibit As but left it. She was too tipsy to get into the situation with enough energy.

"I'm serious Pats." Trixie swung out a hand and managed to grab Patsys knee tightly. Patsy patted the hand.

"Me too, Trixie, you know you're far too in love with men. Besides, you'd have to talk about your feelings."

"You don't." Trixie pointed out, crawling slightly to rest her cheek on top of the hand on Patsys knee.

"I'm single." 

"I could be bi at least. You're not the boss of homosexuals." 

"Never said I was, just know a hopeless case when I meet it; six weeks tops and you'll have some guy head over heels ready to walk into fire for you. You're gorgeous and you've got something to prove to yourself.' Patsy clinked the bottle rim against empty air in toast, 'You'll be fine sweetie." 

"I still can't quite believe it you know; Tom left me for a... brunette?" Disbelief and awe shone through Trixies voice as she derailed once more into stunned reality. 

"Who wears cardigans in summer out of choice." Patsy added swigging at the bottle and passing it down to about the height of Trixies head.

"I bet she's still got stuffed toys in her house." Trixie groused also drinking.

"Bet she has parents who love her." Patsy said quietly staring at the ceiling. Wine always made her maudlin.

"I bet she already has all the pages of the homeware section in John Lewis catalogue for everything she plans to put in here." Trixie went on, absorbed in Barbara hatred.

"Bet she's never been hit." Patsy said more quietly.

"He's a prick." Trixie said, trying to sit up again and failing to do so, making her hair shake like she was on a turbulent rollercoaster. Patsy reached down and pulled her up to sit beside her shoulder to shoulder and took the bottle. It felt much emptier now.

"They deserve each other." Patsy said to the open mouth of the bottle and Trixie merely replied with a wet raspberry and a middle finger towards the front door.

There was a comfortable pause as they both drank a bit more. Another bottle was pulled from the shelf. The edges were definitely beginning to fuzz a little as Patsy lent her head against the kitchen cabinet. Her neck felt terribly heavy right now.

It was Trixie who broke the silence.

"I'm going to shave my head. Tom always hated short hair on a woman- can do what I want now can't I?"

"Yep. Shave your head, sleep with someone ten years younger, fuck it, have a wild house party and call the cat a bastard." Patsys throat was hurting from too much wine but it was worth it to hear her friend laugh.

"I don't have a cat. Toms allergic."

"Buy ten and rub them on all the furniture then."

Trixie rested her face companionably on Patsys shoulder and took the bottle back. Patsy smiled in a dull way, content to fall asleep on the floor pretty soon.

"We should have sex." 

It wasn't a question, more an announcement of facts and Patsy nodded a little out of reflex before the words made sense to her. When they did however, she snorted so loudly it ripped across her ears and she had to shut one eye to see Trixie clearly beside her.

"You and me?" Patsy asked vaguely. 

"Yes. That'll show him." Trixie was looking up at her all broken hearted eagerness and Patsy laughed again nervously. 

"Don't think it will." Patsy said.

"Psh... You said whatever I n-needed." Trixies eyes were blue. Delias blue was better.

"Yeah' Patsy said in a strangely high voice, 'but I meant to make a voodoo doll of him or sticking a potato in his exhaust not... that."

Trixie wasn't listening, she was busy sitting up and trying to push hair out of her eyes. She missed by a wide margin but the thought was there.

"I'm hot." Trixie stated heavily. Patsy took a breath and looked pointedly at her knee.

"Trix... No." She felt a throb in her temples as Trixie huffed and crossed her arms against her chest haughtily.

"Why not? You'd sleep with anyone else." 

Patsy felt her cheek twitch at the implication and bit back the urge to tell Trixie to shut her mouth. Her tolerance for people lecturing her on this was wearing thin today.

"I'm off married women, gave it up for lent or whatever." 

"It's July."

"I'm devout."

"Patsy!' Trixies clumsy hand slapped Patsys knee again a bit harder this time. 'Why not? What have they got that I haven't?" 

"They aren't my best friend... Trix I don't have a lot of people." Patsy shrugged awkwardly. Helen, Trixie. The list was depressingly short.

"If you were my friend you'd just do it." Trixie said after another swig of the rapidly emptying wine bottle. Patsy pulled one side of her mouth in a sad half smile.

"If you were my friend you wouldn't ask."

Trixie didn't seem to know how to answer that straight away and seguayed into a moment of quiet contemplation looking down at herself. 

"But... I don't get it, don't you think I'm pretty?" The words were bitter and Patsy spotted the shiny eyes in alarm.

"Shit, yes, course I do.' Patsy looked around and saw Trixies handbag on the side a few feet away. She stretched out an arm as far as it would go and managed to pull it down by the handle. Random handbag detritus spilled out messily as the bag landed on the floor upside down but Patsy ignored it to rummage for tissues. She passed them to Trixie and patted the blondes shoulder. 'I think you're really pretty Trix I just... I'm not what you need at the minute." 

"I think I know what I need thank you Patience." Trixie took the tissue and dabbed fruitlessly at her mascara stains. 

Patsy took advantage of the pause for more wine. It had been that kind of day.

"Tom didn't want me either. Thought it was because I couldn't get pregnant but as it turns out..." Trixie reached over and pulled a box from the floor into her lap. Patsy recognised the picture of the happy couple reading a stick on the box. 

Something vague pressed at her but she couldn't understand why. She patted Trixies shoulder again. 

"Trix-" 

The rest of whatever she'd been about to come out with was cut off when Trixie turned around and planted a rather wet kiss on Patsys mouth. 

Patsy froze, trying not to do anything as provocative as move her lips as Trixie trapped her forehead in two hands. Felt like being in a vice. Patsy let her get it out of her system for a second or so before freeing Trixies hold and pulling her off.

"No, please Trix."

Patsy tried to be as kind as she could but the alcohol was weighing her down and she felt clumsy as hell. Trixie just broke down again which made Patsy feel worse than if she'd slapped her. 

"No one wants me." Trixies said through sobs and Patsy bit her lip rubbing circles on Trixies back until she was jerked off. 

"It's not like that I just don't want to hurt you even more." Patsy said wretchedly, trying to be the good guy. Trying to be better.

"You're doing a spectacularly bad job of that." Trixie accused angrily. Patsy groaned.

"Look; attractions not simple.' God Patsy needed to say that a few more times for her own sake. 'You don't fancy me you just want something to throw in Toms face next time you see him. That's not going to make things better; trust me, if I thought it would I'd do it."

Patsy waited to see if this would help. It didn't, Trixies eyes were vicious again.

"I hate you." Trixie said childishly.

Patsy cocked her head and gripped Trixies skinny wrist tightly.

"Yeah?' She said through gritted teeth, 'Well I happen to love you. Lots and I don't have too many people I love knocking about so I guess you're just unlucky." Wasn't everyone she came into contact with? Mother, sister, Helen the list went on and on.

"I don't know why you're being so high and bloody mighty about all of this.' Trixie hissed not noticing or caring about Patsys resignation. 'Not like you usually care about other people or their feelings."

"God, make me sound like more of a whore would you." Patsy said bitterly knowing it was true. Delia had such much the same hours ago.

"I wouldn't call you a whore if you weren't one." Trixie muttered with pin point accuracy and Patsy cringed.

"Fuck off." 

Patsy regretted it immediately, Trixie was drunker than her and spoiling for a fight. The resultant angry flush on her friends face was impossible to interpret.

"This is my house I'll say what I want; if you don't like it then don't make it so easy for me."

"Trixie!"

"No! Either take me to bed or fuck off, I don't need someone else's feelings to worry about." 

Patsy stopped. The thought... she knew what she'd been trying to remember. Ignoring the startled Trixie Patsy reached down to her friends lap and pulled up the box of pregnancy tests.

"These tests... where did you buy them?"

"What?' Trixie sounded unseated at her friends disregard for her demands and looked at the box distractedly. 'The normal places... not going to need them anymore now I suppose. Not that anyone cares."

Patsy ignored the sad add on and shook the box so it's contents rattled against the sides.

"When? Where did you buy them?"

"Last week." 

"You're sure? Totally?" Patsy took one of the sticks and scanned the plastic coating. It was exactly the same as the one found in Winnifreds bedroom. Trixie looked bored of the conversation and sniffed irritably.

"Yes I'm sure. Had to buy a new box, someone stole my other one from the cloak room when I was at work. The day you and that cop were looking around Nonnatus."

Patsys heart fluttered as she looked at the packet in her hand, willing her brain to work through the alcohol haze.

"Someone stole your pack? Who would do that?"

"How should I know?' Trixie sounded as though she was about to snap, 'it's not important, I bought some more. The only person I saw going in the staff room out of the norm was sister Monica Joan and that sergeant you were with. Everyone knows the old nun sometimes takes stuff. I didn't care, just bought some more."

"Dyer?' Patsy could feel the booze sliding away as instinct told her she was on the right track, 'what was dyer-"

"It doesn't matter Patsy, we're supposed to be focusing on me today. Can't you even-"

"This is important Trixie!"

"And my marriage isn't?" Trixie growled, the now empty bottle slipped from between her loose fingers and rolled noisily across the floor.

Patsy watched her friend for a moment and then gave up. She got to her feet laboriously.

"I need to go." She said angrily. Trixies lip curled.

"Don't come back then." 

Patsy didn't bother to nod. She strode away, car keys in her hand.

\--

Patsy clambered through the pile of junk mail and headed straight for the kitchen. There was food in the fridge thanks to shopping and Helen but she wasn't hungry. She needed another drink and time to clear her head. 

There was still a few bottles in the salad compartment of the fridge. No ice. Not as if she usually drank pretty.

The silence was broken as a steady glug glug flowed from the bottle of whiskey into a glass tumbler that had been swiftly plucked from a cupboard passing by. Patsy kicked a chair out from the table and slumped into it, glass in hand. 

She drank the drink.

It didn't even burn on the way down which was a good thing she told herself... Probably bad too though, Helen would skin her alive, she shouldn't have driven. Stupid. Just because of anger. 

Patsy refilled her glass.

She should ring Trixie in the morning and apologise and say-

Her phone was ringing in her pocket, the vibrations pulsing against her thigh. Muzzily, she pulled it out and read the screen. 

Not a saved contact but one she knew off by heart all the same. Patsy groaned and tapped the rim of her glass against her top lip absentmindedly. The phone continued to buzz in her hand as she stared down in puzzlement. 

Val? Val was calling her? Why? Val never rang her unless she wanted... Patsy took another sip of whiskey feeling the burn roll down to her stomach.

So, she reflected a trite smugly, less than two days and Val was already looking for a booty call. Patsy hesitated as temptation reared its ugly head. A quick shag was sure as hell inviting tonight and everyone seemed to think she was still doing it anyway. Or at least doing someone that wasn't them.

"I wouldn't call you a whore if you weren't one."

"You disgust me."

Patsy shook her head and dropped the phone. One thing she hated was to be predictable; she wasn't what people thought and she'd ended it with Val. 

Quite possibly; she'd ended it with a fair few women today.

The phone buzzed once, twice and then stuttered into silence. 

Patsy drained her glass ignoring the dull weight in her temples and deposited it back onto the table, then she stood up and walked back to her front door. The hinges creaked as she opened it and bent to take something on the ground outside. She was back at the table less than a minute later with the sound of the lock turning ringing in the air and on the table something clinked merrily. 

Spare door key. Just in case Val decided to let herself in when Patsy went to bed. 

Patsy refilled her glass as she lent back in her uncomfortable wooden seat and looked back at her silent phone. Val hadn't left a voicemail but then again Patsy hadn't expected her to. Not really. 

What would she say anyway? Fancy a fuck? Patsy wasn't interested. Much. 

Sighing with feeling, Patsy rubbed at her forehead and tried to rub away the thoughts about everything that she'd done that day alongside it. 

Stupid. Wank. Of. A. Day.

Helen called them grey days, days like these and usually added on a big sermon about darkest hours and how they happen before the house is set on fire or something along those lines. Patsy tended to zone out when things got optimistic. 

She was zoning out now too it seemed.

Her fingers, without their owners permission, had swiped the phone still on the table open and was even now hovering over the contacts book. Under D. 

Patsy bit her lip and blew out a measured breath as she stared down at Delias name. She sat immobile as her chest clenched. Regret. She'd really fucked that one up. She should text or something, say sorry for walking out and... what? That she hoped Delia and Jessie were very happy and worked it all out? Patsy didn't want that. Not at all. Even if Delia never spoke to her again the lady deserved better than Jessie. 

Maybe a little text wouldn't hurt too much. 

Patsy inched closer, picking out her messages box, what the hell should she say?

The phone chose this moment to spring to life in Patsys guilty hands and she almost dropped the thing in surprise. She'd somehow come closer, leaning like a tree in the wind to peer at the screen. 

Catching herself carefully she scanned the phone and answered immediately as she recognised the number. 

"You okay?" She asked gruffly, still annoyed at being caught acting like a girl in a cheesy rom com. 

"Pats?" Ferns voice was timid and quiet and made Patsy soften almost immediately. 

"Yeah,' Patsy said more quietly this time, 'it's me, is everything okay? You, Seppie?' Patsy stretched out her legs beneath the table and propped her feet on the bar of the chair opposite. Fern seemed to hesitate on the other end of the line and Patsy narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 'Fern?" 

"You said you wanted to know if anything happens." Fern muttered distractedly and Patsy sat up a little straighter; concern hollowing out her guts.

"I do. Has it? Has anyone hurt you guys? Do I need to come over?" Patsy cursed drinking as much as she had and tried to remember how much cash she had on if it came to getting a taxi. To hell with Allie; if some low life had touched the kids Patsy was bringing them home. Tonight. She'd deal with Social worker Sue at a later date. 

"No.' Fern was chewing something, possibly a thumb, so Patsy had to bring the headset painfully hard against her ear, 'they didn't mess with us."

"They?' Patsy prompted patiently, 'whose they Fern?"

"The policeman, the one I told you about.' Fern was still whispering and Patsy tried to pick out background noises. Maybe someone was listening. 'He came round today when Mick was out, said something about a big player coming to visit if Mick didn't do what they wanted him to." 

Patsy didn't move except for her eyes which were scanning left to right in concentration. She needed to find out who this prick was, bent cops gave them all bad names. 

"Do what? What do they want Mick to do? Did they say anything else, it's important sweetheart." 

"They didn't say what it was but Allie was freaked. I could tell. She tried to make him happy but... I don't think it worked." Fern sounded distasteful now and Patsy decided not to bother asking what Allie had done. Didn't make much odds either way.

"Anything else?" Patsy asked gently, certain that there was because Fern was still so skittish. 

"Umm... Someone else turned up about an hour ago. I answered the door; not allowed to normally but Allie was asleep and Mick had come home and passed out. A policewoman, had a badge and everything. She said she thought Allie had been told to expect her." Fern peetered off sounding anxious and Patsy dropped her feet to the floor as her own feelings mounted? Fuck, another bent cop? 

"What did she look like? Could you pick her out from a lineup?" Patsy enquired tersely. 

"I don't know... tall, dark hair, stiff looking and angry. Very angry." They'd scared Fern, Patsy could tell that much.

"And? What happened?" Patsy tried to control the anger as it burned her throat. Fern took a frustratingly long time to answer. 

"Allie woke up, sent me to my room and told me to shut the door. They had this big row on the doorstep, Allie wouldn't let her in but I didn't know what it was about. Allie was scared... Then Mick woke up and everyone was scared I think. He's put his fist through the wall again." Fern seemed to be holding back tears and Patsy reminded herself that she was still a kid. This stuff was hard enough for grown ups. 

"Do you want me to come and get you?' Patsy offered gently, 'I'll do it Fern, I mean it. You don't have to stay there."

Fern sniffled and the phone rattled slightly as it might if a head was being rocked side to side. No.

"No. I'm here until you can take both of us out... I just wish that was sooner." Ferns tough nut answer made Patsy smile wanly. If only being tough was enough to make bad things stop happening. 

"Okay... but I'm here for you, whenever Fern. Just a call away no matter what." God, Patsy hoped that was true. Hoped Fern believed her.

"Don't you want to know what happened to the woman?" Fern asked tremulously and Patsy frowned. 

"I assumed she just left back wherever she came? Why, something else happened then?" 

"Mick pretty much threw her out, that's how he punched the wall... Allie screamed at him because he shouldn't have. Allie thinks we'll get done over for it; said the woman's a high up, said he's put her in danger." 

"Must be bad if Allies standing up to Mick." Patsy observed bleakly. Fern sighed. 

"She got it when she'd shouted herself out.' Fern said bitterly; Patsy could imagine all too well the stubborn setting in the jaw. 'Her face is all mashed up again... she couldn't see all that well out her eyes from the last beating... He'll kill her eventually if the stuff doesn't kill him first... If she dies can I live with you sooner do you think?" 

Patsy didn't reply immediately and the only noise was both of their breathing down the line. 

"I didn't mean that." Fern said eventually in a wobbly voice too young for this conversation. Patsy sighed.

"I know you didn't... it's fine. Stay safe Fern, don't let the bastards keep you down and if you think Allies right and the place is about to get done over you ring me. I don't care about time; I'll get my people in and we will keep you safe. I promise." 

There was another pause as Fern seemed to be examining this statement carefully. 

"Patsy?"

"Yeah?"

"What... What if it's one of your guys whose doing the flat over?" 

Patsy winced as her own thoughts were echoed back to her and tried to sound positive in the face of so much negative.

"Then I'll bloody lock them up same as every other criminal. There's no one outside of the laws reach. Not while I'm around." Conviction didn't do much in the real world, not when bent coppers went around scaring witless druggie wives and kids but it seemed to work on Fern at least as Patsy eyed her half full bottle of whiskey on the table again. 

"Night Patsy."

"Night Fern."

Patsy waited for the dial tone and put the phone down on the table gingerly. She watched the bottle in front of her carefully for a solid ten minutes. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. 

Lines and patterns; those were the things to look for. Bent cops, dead nuns, trafficking, crime gangs. They all made no sense here in this sleepy little town but... there were links if you squinted. Was it really a coincidence Trixies brand of pregnancy test was found in Winifred's bedroom? Was someone tampering? Trying to confuse... and as for the female police officer... Well, there were only two females on CID and Patsy happened to be one of them. 

So, Ursula?

Patsy considered the bottle in front of her sadly for another minute before sighing and getting to her feet. 

The whiskey went back in the fridge. Patsy went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, happy new year my peoples. Hope everyone's still sticking to their new year resolutions. Personally I plan to be bitten by radio active spider this year. I'll let you all know when I find one and begin crime fighting in Lycra although I ask you tell no one else lol, just us and the English speaking world shall be aware. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this, I had a bit of fun with Trixies melt down. Maybe its just me but when female mates go through break ups it's almost a dead cert someone will crack the 'think I'll be a lesbian' card. Last time my bestie did it I had to point out she's blonde and therefore invisible to me which started a 'but Keira knightly' debate. Incidentally; Keira, if your popping on to read call the midwife lesbian fan fiction. You are on my 'it's okay to cheat' list of celebrities just beneath Helena Bonham Carter and before you ask, yes, I will travel lol.
> 
> We're ratcheting up the stress a bit now. Next chapters going to be big and Pats is going to suffer. 
> 
> SB


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water.
> 
> Amy winehouse. Valerie.

Patsy got very little sleep in the end; passing out around three in the morning on her sofa only to wake up when a car backfired up the lane and jolted her to wakefulness. Her face had stuck to the sofa cushion somehow and she sported an attractive line from the seam indented into her cheek. Her hair looked like a rogue monkey had broken in and mistaken the strands for nesting material. She was not even prepared to discuss the taste in her mouth.

Toothpaste, hairbrush and cup of tea. British to the bone she padded about the house yawning here and there as she overcame her bodies tendency to self destruct when left out of its routine.

An hour later she felt far more human with a steaming mug in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. 

In front of her was her notepad from the night before. She always worked better when she could sit on her own and hash it out on paper. It made it more official somehow but tiredness had made it all more like hyroglyphics towards the end than actual words.

She carefully flicked back a few pages with crumby fingers to where everything looked more neat. She pondered her scribblings carefully.

At the top of the page she'd written the word 'dead nun'.

Winnifred. It all went back to the nun. She didn't fit in the picture and Dyers denial of anything but a jilted lover as the culprit didn't ring true. Winnifred had been involved somehow, Fern said she'd been knocking on doors. Asking questions. 

Patsy had spent a fruitless hour reading through the stack of paperwork Delia had given her the day before. All Patsy could ascertain was more proof that Winnifred was a studious square type. There were carefully transcribed notes for department meetings, lesson plans, memos to her herself about specific students that needed extra help. Patsy had latched onto these at first thinking one of the kids might be the missing link but she'd found nothing. Marcus J needed help with sums and Jessica P had nits three times last year. Boring expanses of beige life lived to its least. Winnifreds work diary had been equally pointless. The only element of interest Patsy had found was that, though the year started off very professionally with classes, times and appointments jotted down, sometimes hurriedly, the frequency of the writing had waned as the diary went on. By January it was practically empty. Patsy could only assume the nun didn't bother with it anymore. 

Below Winnifreds name was another; 'Dyer?' Patsy had added the question mark purfunctionarily next to his name. He was involved in this somehow, she could feel it. Connected to Dyer by a line was the word 'bent.' Patsy had underlined this several times.

Was he? Was he working for this new crew? Patsy disliked the idea on the simple premise that one bent cop tarnished them all but... Dyer was different. She'd struggled with herself, searching her motives carefully. Was this about Val? Was she looking to see the worst in the man because of personal reasons or was she on the right track. Her gut said she was right, her conscience told her she needed evidence.

Connected by another line Patsy had scribbled 'Val'. Val? She was Dyers wife. They never spoke about work, never talked about Phil other than a passing dig. Would she know anything? As far as Patsy were aware the couple lived fairly separate lives at Phils bidding but they were still married... Maybe Patsy needed to talk to Val.

Talk. She would only talk to her... Nothing else Patsy told herself firmly as parts of her warmed up. 

Maybe she'd leave Val a little longer. 

Beside 'bent' she'd circled the word 'test'.

One thing was certain now. That pregnancy test had been planted. It had to be. Chummy had said Winnifred was a virgin. Virgins didn't need tests. It was too convenient for the test found to be Trixies brand and Dyer had been in the nun house when Patsy had got there. He'd sent her away with Tim. How long did that give him to get there and mess with Winnifreds room?

Patsy took a bite of toast and sighed.

Evidence. She needed evidence; not just circumstantial theories that wouldn't stand up in an investigation. 

And should she say something?

Below the scrawled mess at the top of the page Patsy had written the word 'Ursula'. She'd purposefully left the question mark off guiltily. 

Ursula was on the case too. She'd have access to witnesses and snouts addresses if she wanted them. She was the boss and... Patsy wanted her not to be in league with Dyer.

It was silly really but Ursula believed in her or at least claimed to. If she was working for the other side, sending mixed signals and planting evidence, threatening those who might speak... Patsy didn't know where to go. Who to trust. How high did the rot go? Experience of false saviours made her cautious to trust too much in ranks.

Ursula had told her to put her name on the course. That meant she would be out of the way while this gang did what they needed to. Was that just a ploy to remove her, Patsy, a thorn in the side for the new gang?

She'd poopoo'd Freds guilt though, Patsy argued with herself. But then again she'd also sent Dyer to nonnatus. She trusted him.

Did that make her an enemy too?

Patsy looked down at her piece of paper glumly for a while as she finished her toast and then picked up the pad and ripped it away, scrunching the fragile ideas up in her hand.

She had to get to work. There was no reason to worry yet surely. She had time to dig a little deeper.

\--

The day was going to be another hot one if the clear sky and waving petrol fumes in the road were anything to go by. Patsy drifted down the empty lanes. The dash said it was half eight. She'd be early today which made a change. 

Delia would be working today. Probably driving to work herself right now and Patsy worried whether she should have sent that text. Wondered if Delia had decided to confront Jessie about their one night stand or if she'd just rolled over and decided to keep on living the way she did.

For Delias sake Patsy hoped it was the former.

As Patsy parked the jeep in her favourite spot she shook her head wryly. These bloody women. She really needed to get a new hobby; she'd heard fire juggling was less difficult. 

Patsy whistled tunelessly as she got into the building. No one was on the front desk for once and she felt a small kernel of relief that she wouldn't have to face Alice so early on in the day. She still didn't know how to respond to the womans back handed assault. Alice wasn't a bad person beneath the vitriol pointed towards Patsy, when they'd dated she'd been saccharine sweet to nauseating at times and she'd cared about things. Deeply. 

Patsy wasn't proud of what she'd done to the poor woman and didn't feel she had much of a moral leg to stand on if and when the subject ever came up. 

Technically Alice had been right. Patsy had slept with Jessie. In Patsys favour was the fact that she hadn't been sleeping with Jessie when she turned up but that was by the by. The damage had already been done and if Patsy had been a better person she should have told Delia herself. No, Alice could win this round. It was fair. Even if Patsy didn't like to admit it out loud.

CID was oddly deserted when Patsy arrived a few minutes later. Ursula had a few of the crew in her office with the door shut and Patsy tried to peak through the glass to see who was in there as she sat at her desk and flicked on her computer.

Phil wasn't in yet but someone had put their coat on his seat to save it. Patsy bit back a smirk at the idea of Phils face when he saw it. The general pile of crap had drifted towards her end again and she pushed it back sullenly. She was going to bin bag the whole lot of it one day.

Before anyone else arrived Patsy quickly checked her phone one last time. She'd not heard from Trixie at all and while this wasn't unexpected she was still worried. They'd left it awkward and though she knew she needed to be the bigger person and send the first message she didn't know what to say.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds as she tried out a few opening lines and discarded them one by one. Probably not the sort of thing to chat about over text anyway. She should pop round this evening or tomorrow.

Her temples throbbed slightly in warning and she amended this idea immediately to; without wine this time.

Ursulas door opened loudly and Patsy looked up to see who'd been in the naughty seat so early. To her surprise she spotted Chopsticks walking slowly behind another PC. His sallow face looked blotchy like he'd been crying and his peer was pressing what looked like a consoling hand on his back. Patsy frowned but looked down at her computer monitor quickly; not wanting to seem like she was snooping. 

"Mount?" Ursula had waved off the pair of uniforms and was standing in the middle on the empty room, her hip resting against the ridge of a nearby desk and wearing a very tired expression as she watched Patsy.

"Ma'am?" Patsy asked guiltily. Something in the bosses expression looked off to Patsy, it wasn't the usual run of the mill exhaustion and the every day tinge of barely suppressed frustration was missing. 

Then Ursula did something she had never done before; she reached out for a chair and wheeled it over to stop beside Patsys desk and sat down heavily. Patsy knew instantly that something very serious must have happened. Someone must be in trouble.

Immediately Patsys mind flicked to Trixie. Had Tom come back overnight? Oh God, that must be it; Trixie was in the cells and asking for Patsy. Shit. Patsy gulped and looked shiftily at her boss who was considering her over steepled fingertips.

Surely Patsy couldn't be disciplined for a friends actions?

"Constable Mount,' Ursula began in a very formal, fatigued voice, 'Im sorry to tell you that something terrible has happened." 

Patsys thoughts swam as she blinked stupidly. Terrible? Was Trixie hurt? The girls? Had something happened at Micks?

"Terrible ma'am? Is someone hurt? Do I need to go to the hospital?" Quite why Ursula knew about Patsys loved ones health status before she did was anyone's guess but she wasn't moving until she found out. Ferns scared voice from the night before mocked her. If something had happened to those kids Patsy would kill Mick herself.

Ursula was still looking at her carefully and raised a restraining hand to wave Patsy back into the chair she hadn't yet moved from.

"Not the hospital. No.' She paused and her lips thinned against her teeth as she seemed to be pushing herself on. 'There's been a murder, this morning from the looks of things." 

Patsy froze and then relaxed slightly. A murder? That was troubling in the fact that two in a fortnight was high but murder was their business. Patsy couldn't understand why the boss looked so concerned unless... Where had Alice been this morning? Was it a cop?

"Ma'am?"

Ursula took a deep breath and her featured became stony. Her voice emotionless. 

"Phils wife Val was found on the beach this morning. He was called to the scene at six. The bodies been positively identified already but...' Ursula blew out a long breath, 'the case is close to home. Phil, for obvious reasons, will not be available for work. I'm putting him on sick leave for the moment. The death appears to have been violent... It goes without saying that this will be our top priority moving forward. Whoever did this will feel the full force of the law. I'm counting on you to take point with the loss of Phil."

Patsy wasn't listening. She'd stopped listening at the first sentence. The world had ended.

It had to have ended.

This had to be a joke.

A sick, messed up, cruel joke. 

Val couldn't be-

"I'm sorry ma'am' Patsy interrupted abruptly, her tone implying no such apology, 'I think there's been a mistake. Valerie Dyer can't be dead."

Ursulas eyes softened just for a moment and she nodded her head the way social workers used to when Patsy was young. 

"Why can't she be dead constable?" Ursulas voice was gentle as she inched a little closer on her chair making the wheels squeal noisily. Patsy blinked and gave an uncertain smile.

"She just can't be dead ma'am, there's been a mistake."

Ursula sighed, looking annoyingly understanding and reached to clasp one of Patsys hands with her own. 

"Her body was identified by Phil on the scene constable and I've had reports from others to match this. I'm very sorry to tell you that Valerie Dyer was murdered last night."

Patsy stared uncomprehendingly at Ursula, her mouth hanging open in shock and disbelief. This had to be a joke, this had to be a... But there was no humour in Ursulas serious grey eyes and it was a fucked up joke if it wasn't true. Besides, everything about Ursula said it was real. That Val was-

"No!" Patsy stood up abruptly, the denial just a hiss of air as she threw off the older woman's hand from her own. Ursula was watching her with a strange look of surprise and sympathy.

"I'm sorry for your loss constable. I wasn't aware you were friends with the deceased-"

"No!' Patsy cut her off angrily, 'she's not- it's not true!" It couldn't be true. Val couldn't be dead.

Ursula was getting to her feet and shook her head compassionately.

"Constable, I think you should take the rest of today off. If there's anything I can do." Ursula tried to pat Patsys shoulder like she was a damn dog. Patsy backed away and looked around wildly.

"Where... How- Where did they take the body. It might not be her. Someone must have made a mistake." Patsy gabbled it at top speed, feeling morbid certainty taking her over even as she spoke. Ursula stepped uncertainly towards Patsy and then stopped and rubbed at her temples like a woman of eighty.

"She's at the morgue, Toffs taking care of things for us- Theres nothing you can do Constable!" The end of this was shouted as Patsy swarmed through the doors and into the building. Ursulas warning was in vane. She had to see it for herself, had to know it for certain. 

Val couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be.

\-- 

The drive to the morgue seemed to take a long time and yet, when Patsy got out of the car to look at the hulking shape of the building it seemed as though it should have taken longer.

The drive had felt surreal. Like she was watching a mildly interesting film in a dark room. Every moment was from someone's else's life. Not Patsys. Not again. She couldn't lose someone else. Val couldn't be dead. She couldn't be.

The receptionist on the front desk buzzed Patsy through without comment and Patsy thought that Ursula must have rang ahead to tell them not to question her. She felt both aggrieved and relieved at this thoughtful gesture. When she found out Val was alive then she'd have wasted half a morning on nothing.

Because Val couldn't be dead. Val couldn't be dead. Val couldn't be dead.

Chummys office was empty when Patsy knocked, an open book and a half eaten bowl of porridge was laying on the desktop as though she'd left in a hurry. Patsy stepped through, calling Chummys name softly. The smell of bleach and antiseptic usually soothed Patsys clean freak side but today it grated on her. Made her wrinkle her nose as she pushed on through to the next room.

Chummy was in there, gowned and masked, standing before a table where a few things were laid out. She was reciting their names to a dictaphone held in her hand but turned around when she heard her name and smiled widely.

"Constable Mount! I should have known they'd send you. Awful business this." Chummy waved sadly down at the table in front of her and Patsy gave a tight nod of her head.

"There's been a mix up with the identity. I need to see her and double check. Some idiot said it was sergeant Dyers wife in there." Patsy nodded towards the next room that held all the stiffs with a would be casual incline of her head. The tension in her body was barely controlled as she waited for Chummy to nod and agree with her statement.

Chummy merely frowned and looked down at the table in front of her. 

"I'm afraid there's been a mix up your end Pats; the bodies been identified by the victims husband and we've got her purse.' Chummy reached towards the table and waved something beige in the air.

Patsy felt something crack in her chest. Heart maybe? She recognised the purse. Recognised it and hated that she recognised it.

They sell more than one purse she told herself desperately. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe someone just stole Vals purse. 

To avoid Chummys expectant smile Patsy took in the table. It looked like the contents of a handbag. Tissues, a lipstick in a black plastic wrapper, a pair of white headphones. 

"No phone." Patsy grunted to the table. 

"No. It wasn't recovered from the scene. Mr Dyer says she habitually carried it so I suppose this is one of those mysteries you people will have to solve. It's all a bit Agatha Christie I must say. Two bodies on the beach." Chummy spoke as though the idea was thrilling somehow. Patsy felt her vision thinning into two parallel lines of red. 

"I want to see the body." She managed in a strained voice. Chummy perked up at the idea and immediately began pulling off her gloves with loud, slapping noises as the latex stretched to free her appendages. 

Patsy was already walking towards the morgue end of the room.

She had to see. She had to know.

Inside the next room was much cooler. Dead bodies disliked the summer heat. Most of them were still in their drawers but there was one left out. Laying on a gurney. A little trolley with a tray on top was placed beside it. All ready to start cutting the body open.

Patsy took in enough to know the truth and then had to stop to lean against the wall. Shock and horror washed over her as the undeniable truth of the situation hit home.

There had been no mix up and all hope was gone. 

Patsy felt the ground slip away beneath her. She heard her own gasp distantly as she stared up and down the body before her. 

Vals body looked strange laid out under a morgue blanket. Like she was sleeping; a porcelain doll trapped under a wicked spell. Her face was pale, the lips thicker than usual with green bruising around the jaw as though she'd been hit- Because she probably had been. Her hair was ragged, twigs and leaves entwined into the dark strands. There were more bruises at her neck, her collar.

She'd been wearing The dress when she died. The purple one with the flowers that Patsy had thrown time and time again onto the floor like it was supposed to be there.

All gone now.

At the end of the blanket her two small feet poked free. One shoe was missing and the bluish veins on the arch of her exposed foot seemed very bright against the corpse white of her skin.

Patsy felt something rising up her throat, something bitter and thick. Bile. 

Val. Her Valerie. Dead. Murdered...

Chummy was standing behind Patsy but the chirpy words were far away. Another world brushing against Patsys world. Unimportant now.

"How did it happen?" Patsy interrupted Chummy harshly, her voice unrecognisably low as she continued to stare, transfixed, at Vals body. Chummy shuffled from one foot to another. Possibly, she had noticed the dangerous lowering of tone from her friend or perhaps the unnatural stillness poked her hind brain into recalling the way hunters stand very still to catch prey.

"It wasn't very pretty I'm afraid old bean." Chummy trilled, a nervous edge creeping in as Patsy turned her head owlishly to stare at her.

Bean. She fucking hated being called that. 

"Chummy... If you call me that again you'll be the one on a gurney next do you understand." Patsy could barely get the threat out, it felt as though she had lock jaw, every part of her was stiffening. Blinding, white hot rage seemed to he seeping into her very bones, filling the gaps where things that once mattered had been before. Without her knowledge her hand squeezed hard on something, the knuckles cracked ominously under the strain. Chummy gulped and her eyes flicked down to the clenched fist warily.

"You don't seem yourself officer... perhaps a cup of tea and-"

Patsys arm arced up and the neat tray of implements rattled to the floor noisily, the tray clang clunked down above them all and Patsy saw red.

"Tell me!" She bawled at the coroner who backed away hands held up in defence and fear. A stainless steel trolley was close by and Patsy kicked it so hard it crashed into the wall spilling boxes of gloves and masks from its cupboard onto the floor.

Patsy didn't care that Chummy flinched. Didn't care about anything but the dead woman lying behind her. She wanted people to be afraid, wanted to hit and smash and break everything around her. Wanted to crawl out of her skin to avoid this agony.

"How did she die? Tell me?" If Patsy was in a position to reflect on things she might have worried how similar her voice sounded to the one from her nightmares in this moment. Patsy knew just the right voice to scare people. She'd learned it at the masters knee when other children were off eating from lunch boxes that didn't get burned and playing with siblings who weren't left to die agonising deaths.

"Strangulation,' Chummy spoke very fast, the smooth column of her throat bobbed like a teenage boy and her face was pale. Not as pale as Vals though. 'There's visible finger marks around her throat. Look; you can see it if you stop shouting."

Patsys neck felt curiously thick; like set rubber was crippling her body but she managed to look where she was being directed when she focused on the muscles only and not what she was about to see. 

Chummy was right, the large vivid bruises hung around Vals collar bone like a lurid necklace. Purple to match her pretty dress. Patsy reached out blindly for support and felt the fabric bunching in her fist like an anchor. The air smelled only of disinfectant, Vals perfume had been shrouded with bleach. 

Patsys back teeth groaned as she squeezed her jaw tightly together. She would find who did this. She would make them wish they'd never been born.

But first she needed to know it all. Everything.

"Sexual assault?" Patsy couldn't face Chummy now, tears were blurring Vals face but she wouldn't cry. She needed to be in control right now. She owed it to Val. 

Chummy was hovering at her shoulder and Patsy sensed the womans concern at Patsys reaction when she answered.

"Constable... Perhaps another officer... someone less involved in the case would be bet-"

"Sexual fucking assault?' Patsy didn't shout as she repeated her question, but the threat of what would happen if she wasn't answered was obvious. 'The fact that you're not telling me is already telling me Chummy so spit it out? How bad? Dead or alive?" Patsys chest felt like a hollow balloon left over too long, every breath was cutting her but she had to know. Had to know like it was her who'd died. Not Val.

"She was raped;' Chummy said the words apologetically; like she was telling someone the weather. 'tearing of the muscles, bruising and swelling around her groin are all consistent with vaginal and anal penetration."

Patsys heart was racing, the fingers holding Vals dress were clamped so tightly she'd likely tear away the fabric but it made no odds. Val wouldn't need it anymore.

"Was she alive or dead?" Patsy could guess the answer and her question seemed far off. Coming from someone else's mouth.

"She...' Chummy gulped, 'my professional opinion tells me she was alive when she was attacked, the bruising colouring and there's defence wounds on her face, hands and wrists. Whoever did this didn't do it easily. She put up one hell of a fight. If we're lucky we'll get DNA from the blood underneath her nails. Looks as though she tried to scratch everything in her way."

"Sounds like her.' Patsy gave a watery humourless laugh. Her Val would have smashed the world if she thought it would make a pretty noise. Val loved fighting. 'She would've given them hell... What about semen? Spit? Can't you get DNA from that?"

Chummy paused and then shook her head. In Patsys peripheral view she saw the dark hair flash in and out of sight.

"No constable. Whoever it was cleared up after themselves properly. Used a condom and poured bleach on the genitals afterwards. She's badly burned but the marks weren't completely destroyed."

Patsy tried to look at Vals face but found she was completely unable to do so. The smell of bleach was nauseating in the room and for a moment the scene seemed to sway like she was on a ship.

Her Val. Someone had done this to her. Patsys Valerie.

Too late she realised she was the one swaying, falling backwards into Chummys clumsy but strong arms completely te weak. 

Patsy tried pulling herself back together and failed. It seemed as though all of the messy, ripped up parts of herself were too far stretched for that. Her guts were churning and one look into Chummys alarmed but concerned face was enough to bring it all up. Chummy, medically trained as she was, had the good sense to drop Patsy and pull the bin closer just in time.

Patsy puked into it, spewing over yesterday's lunch and half an apple core until there was nothing left to spew. Then she sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, murder in her heart. 

"Constable mount I think I should take you home." Chummy was close by looking nervous. Patsy shook her head and then stopped as the world swam before her eyes again. She got to her feet. 

Just one foot in front of the other. She'd done it before. Just keep walking. She could do it now. 

"No. I've got things to do. Stay here and work on... Look after her.' Patsy couldn't bare to say Vals name out loud. To say it would make it real and Patsy didn't want Val to be dead. Didn't want to be looking for Vals murderer... But she would. She would find them. 

The doors were up ahead and Patsy itched to go, to start tearing people up for information. 

"Constable Mount!" Chummy was trying to sound firm. Patsy wanted to laugh; upper class virgins were the least scary things out there for her.

"Stay here Chummy.... oh' a thought struck Patsy hard and fast and she paused as though the world wasn't ending. 'What time for time of death?"

Chummy was watching Patsy like she was a gun about to go off but wisely chose to answer and let her go.

"Five this morning or there abouts. She was found on the beach, near where the nun was."

Patsy nodded, tucking this fact away into the bank and strode towards the door. Five this morning? Who would be out at that time of night?

She'd certainly find out.

\--

Patsy got to the car park before reality set in. She had no clues as to what was going on. She didn't know who she could trust or what to believe. 

She stood by her car looking left and right agitatedly as though searching for invisible signs in the air.

What to do now? 

She could go back to the station, could speak to Ursula and make her theories public knowledge. She could find Phil and break his jaw. She could rattle the low life's of Poplars night world cages until someone squealed. 

Someone must have seen something. Someone had to know where Val had been. Maybe her house? Phil and Vals house? Had Val been sitting at home when the attackers broke in and tortured her? Was that why she'd called Patsy last night?

Patsy swallowed hard and forced her brain to slow down. She needed to think, needed to not be a grieving idiot right now.

She turned uselessly on the spot, her hands tapping against her thighs and her thoughts one lone stream of obscenities.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out quickly, desperate for action and something to fill the moment.

Her heart stopped.

Val was calling her... Patsy looked at the phones screen in confusion as it continued to buzz in the cradle of her palm. It's not Val, Patsy told herself firmly, you just saw Val. This is them. This is them.

She pressed the green button with shaking fingers and pressed it to her ear; half believing she was about to hear Vals voice somehow. 

"Yes?"

Silence greeted her and Patsy breathed through her nose as she strained to discern anything on the other end. Any clue. Anything. 

"I will find you." She threatened through the line. There was a moment more of silence and then the soft click of the call ending.

It took a long time to bring the phone back down from her face. Her eyes stared into empty air. Someone had Vals phone... That meant a techie could trace it. They could find them.

She sprung into action. Opening the door to the jeep so hard it creaked as it swung and jumped into the seat without the step. It took three attempts to get the key in the ignition, her hands were numb, the hole too small a target right now.

The engine roared into life as she pushed it into top speed as fast as possible. Patsy saw a few people point as she roared through the gates but didn't care if she was being reckless. She would find them.

They would burn.

The road was eaten up as she hurled the metal hulk of the jeep round tight corners and slid dangerously close to other cars as she over took. The station would hold the answers, Ursula had said this case was top priority and Patsy would ensure everyone understood that.

They would burn.

She only stopped for traffic lights when she had to. Each pause making her fidget in her seat, drumming the wheel and whistling through her teeth. The desire to do something, anything was overwhelming and nothing else mattered. She wanted to fix this, wanted to contribute some retribution.

Or at least she did until her phone buzzed again. Patsy looked down at the passenger seat distactibly where she'd flung the devise and squinted at a message that popped up on the screen.

She waited until the next traffic lights to read it.

It was Val or whoever had Vals phone and it was only three words. Succinct but captivating. Patsy devoured it as cars honked behind her to move. The lights were green but Patsy couldn't take her eyes off the message; all thoughts of getting to station evaporating.

"Meet at beach."

Patsy clenched her jaw as the car behind honked again, passing beside her and gesticulating through the window. She ignored them.

And then she made a U turn. 

The beach was the other way.

\--

Patsy parked a way off from the beach. On the strip of arcade that was starting to come to life. She got a sense of deja vu hit her as she walked past the same grabber machines and neon lights she'd crossed after finding Winnifred.

Everything was the same and yet so different this time. This time it was personal.

Patsy forced her feet to slow as the sound of the tide out to sea reached her ears. It drummed against the earth like war, like heartbeats.

One-Two. One-Two. One-Two.

The sandy lane at the end of the strip dived down, the beaten stone giving way to tons upon tons of thin, crumbly white sand. The powder clung the to toe of Patsys boot as she stood at the place of change staring out at the expanse of white. 

The beach seemed to have been abandoned for today; but corpses were always bound to do that. No one wanted their child running up to them with a finger from some unfortunates remains. It wouldn't stop tourism for very long, tourists didn't need to have long memories but the emptiness seemed... appropriate. Val would have appreciated it at least. 

Val...

Patsy looked for the tell tale blue ribbon and saw it fluttering like dreams on the wind about a mile south. She walked towards it as though seeing the site would help. Seeing was believing and instinct told her this was where she needed to be. Someone had called. Someone would be waiting and if they weren't... Patsy would wait for them to turn up. 

Not like she had anything else planned today. Not like anything else mattered today on this silent, wasted beach.

One-Two. One-Two.

Crunch and sink went Patsy across the flat sand. On and on until she reached the waving tape. Plastic rattled and flopped against the sea breeze. The sun stood above the horizon casting golden beams across Patsys vision, blurring the silence and mixing with tears. 

Val had died here... Or at least whoever killed her had dumped her body. Like she didn't matter. Like she was rubbish.

Weirdly, unsatisfactorily, there wasn't much too see close up. There wasn't any real damage to the surroundings that the sea couldn't fix by high tide. Boot marks had taken most of the shapes that may have been visible at first; it was impossible to see from the terrain where the body had been. Here or there it didn't matter.

And Patsy wasn't alone. 

Phil was sitting a few feet away, tucked tightly from easy view on a large flat boulder sunk deep into the sand half way up a dune. Staring out to sea. Waiting. 

Patsy watched him for a moment, not bothering to speak. His fat cheeks were rosy pink and wet from tears, his nose creaked with each breath from snot. The shadow of the dune hung around one half of him while the other gloried in the days rays. Half man. He'd discarded his jacket and the buttons of his crisply ironed white shirt strained against his gut. The grey suit trousers jutted out wide at his thin ankles and pink socks showed between his unsuitably fashionable brown loafers. His head shone with sweat and he was smoking. Staring out to sea like it held answers.

Patsy took the space beside him feeling her feet sinking deeper as she hit the slight incline. Sand tumbled into the grooves she carved and tried to smother her boots. She felt it glide between the thin gaps of leather, biting into the souls of her socks.

Phil merely inched sideways to make room for Patsy. 

The feel of his body so close was oddly grounding. He smelt of sweat and grief. Patsy could understand both.

Automatically; she reached into her jacket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes before realising the lighter was still in the jeep. Dyer, watching her from the corner of his eye reached between them and lit the tip without comment. Patsy inhaled and breathed in the fumes with a jerky nod of thanks that wasn't returned.

The packet said smoking would kill you but that only counted if something else didn't kill you first. 

Dyer cleared his throat and shuffled a little, falling more into shadow as Patsy steadily smoked her fag. Her hands weren't even shaking as she did it. What was the point? They were here, the circle was done and Val was dead. Whatever happened now would happen and Patsy would deal with the consequences tomorrow. 

It seemed as though they'd silently struck a kind of deal. They would not begin until the cigarettes were smoked. The silence before the hammer blow and so... Patsy smoked. Lungful of heavy, thick tar coating her organs as the sun bleached them bone white and red under its gaze. 

At the final drag Patsy paused, feeling Dyers raptured interest pique beside her and then flicked away the butt. It landed squarely in the sand and died with a faint hiss. 

Dyer let out a louder breath and Patsy rubbed the pad of thumb and forefinger together idly like a signal had been waved. Time to begin.

"I didn't know it would be you.' Dyers voice was hoarse and strange at her side and Patsy couldn't bare to turn and watch him speak. Not yet. She let the words wash over her; inevitable as the tide. 'A few times... I thought there might be someone else; a neighbour maybe doing my job for me. Only realised it was you when I heard your voice." Phil didn't sound upset about the revelation. To say he was numb was the charitable excuse but Patsy didn't feel all that charitable. He could have been talking about a pet for all the emotion he put in the non question.

"Are you going to ask me when?' Patsy turned to look at him, there was sweat on his top lip and he was shaking. She made sure she sounded just as casual. She wanted to hurt him. 'How long?"

Phils eyes narrowed and he wouldn't meet Patsys gaze.

"No." He muttered sullenly to his feet.

There was a long pregnant pause as each of them avoided the other. Val should have left him Patsy told herself viscously. The man was nothing but a weed and she, with all her faults, would have been better. She was better.

Patsy allowed herself to be lost in useless frustration for a few minutes before the creeping realisation of what this all meant; her and Phil being here meant... 

"Did you kill her?" Patsy had to ask. Had to know and sitting here with the waves peaking on the horizon, white foam dousing the distant beaches edge it seemed appropriate. 

"No...' Phils voice wobbled and he sniffed before continuing. His show of emotion made Patsys skin crawl. 'But I know who did."

More silence. More internal screaming that Patsy couldn't understand why people didn't hear. It was so loud in her head.

"Are you going to tell me who killed her?" She asked levelly, unable to look at him directly as she said it. Dyer merely sniffled and shrugged his shoulders so that their sides brushed. Patsy hated the feeling and leaned away, not bothering to hide her contempt.

"I think you already know him." Dyer said eventually. His voice sounded weak and unlike the one Patsy knew.

"If I knew' Patsy said in an equally shaky voice, the emotions inside seeming to choke her, 'then I'd already be talking to him. Not you." After this conversation Patsy would be happily never to speak to Phil again. 

Phil wasn't listening, he was looking out to sea and Patsy noted that his cheeks puffed in and out like he was sucking something. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

"I was in bed when I found out. Chopsticks called me....' He tailed off as though the memory was too painful and looked down at his hands like he'd forgotten they existed. 'Thought I was making us a better life together... I thought-"

Patsy decided they were falling into dangerous territory. She hadn't come here to listen to Phil lament his happy marriage. Not least because that marriage wasn't real life, Patsy had known Val, had heard enough to know the truth and the picture Dyer painted wasn't true at all. In Dyers tears Patsy saw only lies.

"What did you get her into Phil? What do you know." Patsy wanted facts and answers. She didn't give a damn about the mans feelings. He shivered at Patsys question and his lip quivered but he answered like a naughty kid caught red handed.

"Nothing.' He protested weakly. And then he muttered; 'she was never supposed to find out."

Patsy had heard enough. She puffed out her cheeks and tried to level herself. Tried to stay calm and rational in the face of so much instability and crooked truths.

"Find out what? What have you done?' Patsy bit her lip and then placed down her ace carefully. 'I know you placed evidence on the nun, I think you killed her, or you were involved so deeply you had to help cover it up. You stole a nurses pregnancy test from her handbag. It's all circumstantial evidence at the moment but I'll find more, I'll find out everything and then..." Patsy let the threat fade out against the backdrop of the tide. Dyers face paled for only a fraction of a second before the grieving mask fell back into place. 

He was shocked Patsy had said it. Shocked to be called to answer his wrongdoings.

"My wife's dead.' He said plaintively. 'You can't do worse than that." Dyers tears became audible, his sobs ripping from his chest and hitting the air like bullets. Patsy raised her head stubbornly.

I will not cry she told herself firmly. I will not cry no matter what happens. I will not allow myself to cry in front of this man.

"I didn't realise she meant so much to you." Patsy said after a while as Dyer continued to sob beside her. She meant it to. Phil had never seemed to care much for his wife before now.

"She meant everything to me." Phil gasped between wet heaves and Patsy had to look back to the sea.

Valerie...

She would not cry. She would not cry.

"Who did this to her?' Patsy asked aloud just to say something really. 'Raped and left dead on the beach... because of you.' Patsy felt herself hardening as she said it and found to her surprise that she no longer needed to remind herself not to cry. 

The anger that had been bubbling behind the pain was soaring in her ears; buoying her up on a tide of retribution and flames and through it all came one total certainty.

'I want a name Phil."

"Me?' He actually sounded surprised, like the thought hadn't even occurred to him. As though the concept that he was in any way culpable was not possible. "I didn't do anything. She shouldn't have gone meddling in my business, she shouldn't have made herself his enemy." 

Patsys insides itched, her hands twitched manically in her lap with the urge to strangle Dyer until he was as much dead as Val. Coward.

"Why? Whose enemy did she make?" The rage was white hot and braised the path ahead with inching clarity. So clear was the future; simple questions made simple answers... and then Patsy could hit him. Dyer was oblivious or else so wrapped up in self pity and his own grief he hadn't twigged how close he was to being drowned. Fat tears rolled off his flat nose and stained small puddles into the smooth dusty rock at his feet.

"It's not my fault.' He said pitifully, swiping at his nose. 'I didn't do this."

Patsy had heard it too many times from offenders; it wasn't me, I would never, not me officer. Liars came in all shapes and sizes but the worst ones were the ones good enough to believe what they said. By the looks of things Phil actually believed he somehow wasn't to blame. Patsy blinked very slowly and saw Vals body lying on the gurney.

She needed to be calm. People responded better when questioned nicely. It made them feel like they could open up.

"Then who did do this Phil?" The strain of being polite cost more than she'd expected and didn't make much impact on Dyer except to make him blink stupidly and turn to stare at her. Mouth hanging like a frog collecting flies.

"This is you.' Phil said slowly, frowning in concentration. 'If she'd been with anyone else-"

"Our relationship' Patsys heart hurt to say the word. Especially to him. 'didn't do this to her. You put her in danger and I want to know who, I want to do the right thing by Val which is more than you ever did." The insult slipped out before she could censor it. Phil jerked like he'd been slapped.

"I didn't!" He wore such an aggrieved, innocent face that Patsy snapped. A Kit Kat under a hot sun.

"You fucking got her killed!" She snarled.

Dyers face convulsed and he shook his head, bringing pudgy hands to dab at his eyes distractedly.

"No, No!' He wailed into his hands, fresh tears gliding down his face. Patsy hated him. She'd always hated him even before Val. Now, she loathed every inch of him. He'd never deserved Val in life and he was continuing to be a disgrace after she'd died. Dyer was sobbing like he really cared. Patsy wasn't selling oscars though and sat stone like as he pointed a finger that shook towards her. 'He killed her because of you! He must have found out!"

"Who? Who found out!" Patsy asked angrily although a creeping sense of dread was building somewhere in the depths of her soul. Inevitability and fear rubbed sticks to try and find a spark. 

"You won't be able to stop him, he's too big. He's got people everywhere; police, hospital, fire service, he's got a bloody army at his disposal. What could I do? He does what he wants." Dyer reverted to feeble sobs into his hand and Patsy watched him in disgust and no small amount of trepidation... All of a sudden Patsy almost didn't want to know who this gang leader was. She wrinkled her nose and blew out a deep breath. 

"How can you be okay with that?" How could anyone be okay with what was happening? Patsy closed her eyes as a few stabs of guilt hit her. She should have answered the phone last night. Why didn't she just throw aside her stupid pride and answer the phone. She might have been able to save Val, she might have been able to-

"What choice do I have?" Dyer was still whining, still looking for sympathy Patsy didn't have.

"As many as you need to be better!' Patsy said bitterly, snapping back to the moment at once and hating Phil for being so weak. 'Val is dead, we can get him together or I'll do it; just give me his name."

Phil pressed his knuckles to his mouth and bit the skin, rocking on his backside as though holding the words in. Patsys chest rose and fell as they froze in uncertainty and then Dyer wrenched his hand away and laughed a wet, defeated chuckle.

"You already know it...' He grit his teeth so they lined up against his thin lips and glared at Patsy, looking her up and down with real anger in his small dark eyes. 'This is your fault. If it hadn't been you!"

"Me?' Patsys eyebrows raised so far up her face they surely should disappear without a trace. She couldn't believe the mans nerve. 'I didn't do this, you pulled her into some shady crap and now she's dead Phil. Vals dead." Vals dead. Vals dead. The words seemed to stick in her ears on the way out and rattle their echo again and again. Each repetition was just another blow. Vals dead.

"I thought I was making us a better life." Phil whispered menacingly as he continued to glare, the wistful edge disappearing into anger and resentment.

Patsy became very aware of the heat Phils body gave off beside her. The large, hulking shape of his arms beside her own.

"Give me a name Phil." Patsy entreatied in a low voice. Phil breathed out a long exhalation and shook his head. No.

"I can't... If I do that... then I'm dead too." 

"Maybe you deserve to die." Patsy spat bluntly, feeling nothing but revulsion for the mans suffering. 

"It's not my fault!' Phil repeated the mantra as though he thought it would make it true. 'If you hadn't been sleeping with her he wouldn't have bothered."

"Give me a name!' Patsy demanded again, her hands were squeezing themselves in nerves as the anger surged. 'Christ sake Phil; can't you do one thing right in your whole miserable excuse for a fucking life!"

She'd gone too far. Patsy knew it before she'd even finished. Phils eyes bulged and his lips curled all the way to let out a snarl.

"It's all your fault!"

Dyers arm swung and, too late, much much too late, Patsy saw one of the driftwood branches he'd been clutching in the dark. The branch looked grey and weather beaten. Dyer had probably brought it all the way here especially for her. Had planned this all along.

It hit her squarely in the stomach, heavy and thick and annoyingly accurate, taking her by surprise and off guard. She tumbled forward bent double, completely winded as air swooshed against her neck telling her she'd accidentally missed the next blow to her head by inches.

"You killed her! You got her killed? You!" Dyer had stood up, his breathing turning into pants as the branch swooshed again. 

Patsy tried to crawl blindly into the sand, her stomach cramping and her lungs pulsing in her chest. She got a few feet away until sharp stones were biting into her knees when the next blow cracked over her exposed back. Wood tumbled away on both sides as the weapon shattered with the force of the hit. Patsy fell face front into the warm sand, the grains smothering her nose and mouth as she tried to gasp in air without success.

She couldn't breathe and her legs weren't picking her up properly as a foot slammed into her kidney. Her back was a thick welt of physical pain and she had to get up.

Dyer was close behind her, still screaming.

Her hands scrambled in vain as something heavy landed squarely between her shoulders and ground her deeper into the sand. She flailed uselessly like a fish caught on a wire and tried to lift her face for air but the boot was inching up to press on her skull. She couldn't breathe!

She struggled harder and the boot twisted harshly, slamming her face down deeper as her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her hands could do nothing but grasp at empty sand as she lay pinned like a butterfly.

She couldn't breathe. 

Sand crowded her mouth, her nose, her eyes. Blind and numb and every inhalation brought more grit and dirt down her aching throat. She let her body fall limp and helpless against the heavy weight at her back. Her brain was fogging. 

Panic killed you at times like this, panic was what got you before the offender did a trainer had once told the class at school. At the time Patsy had sworn panic wouldn't get her. She'd seen to much.

Something damp fluttered against Patsys neck as the pressure increased and suddenly withdrew. Dyer grunted as he shuffled closer. A hairy fist fell around her shoulder, cutting bone deep and ripped her around to lay gasping on her back. Sucking in warm summer air desperately.

She could barely cough up the sand in her mouth before the other fist smacked hard across her face. Once. Twice.

Sounded like a shovel hitting cement from inside her head.

Something thick and warm trickled down Patsys mouth as her nose unmistakably cracked after a particularly accurate strike. Her vision was growing hazy as the punches ranged all over her face, her chest, her neck. Copper mixed with sand and spit on her tongue as pain rained down from above her. 

It fucking hurt. 

Pain was everything.

She had to fight back. 

Patsy groaned with effort and managed to crook one knee awkwardly to swipe at Dyer who simply dumped his weight on Patsys stomach still pummelling her face and jaw. She couldn't breathe and her leg flattened instantly with a brutal twisting jerk.

"You' smack 'it's your fault' smack 'you ruined everything!' Smack 'stupid fucking bitch' smack.

Patsys head slammed into the sand with each hit and felt more snot and blood drip down her face. Her eyes were swelling up so that Phils puce features were becoming just a shadowy blur.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

It went on and on and on until Phil got too tired to hit her anymore. Until Patsys face felt more like a slab of meat on a butchers block than a face. Her chest burned, white hot in the centre but numbing all the time from the edges as he knelt on it, crushing her down with the sheer weight of his body.

She didn't even have the energy to flinch when pudgy fingers wound through her hair and rattled her head insistently.

"You want a name?" Phil hissed so close he must be almost pressing his lips to the shell of Patsys blood soaked ear.

He sounded a long way off. Patsy could feel the darkness closing in all around her. Perfect nothingness corroding her brain as pain ebbed all ability from her.

She tried to speak, tried to tell him something witty but all she managed was a garbled; 'Sssssss' noise through bruise thickened lips.

Dyer paused... or perhaps Patsy had just passed out. She couldn't feel the pain anymore, couldn't feel anything.

"His name is Mister Abraham... He's coming to get you Mount!"

One final hit, just on the edge of her jaw, swift and hard.

Patsy heard nothing more. Knew nothing more. The darkness was too strong, she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand breathe. This chapter was horrible to write, poor poor patsy and poor Val. 
> 
> Comments are greatly desired. I'm talking Gollum and the ring levelled desired. Feedback people! I needs it on this one.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was young it seemed that life was so wonderful. A miracle. Oh, it was beautiful, magical.
> 
> Supertramp. The logical song.

_It was cold today. Colder than usual because the great gas heater had been switched off. So had the lights._

_Master Abraham had said in this morning sermon that they had all become slovenly, lazy and too worldly and must be punished for their sins._

_Patience, as she trudged head down in the line of the believers down to the big room Master Abraham had told them to go to, didn't know how they'd sinned though._

_That was the thing about The Master. Nothing was ever explained, nothing answered._

_Guiltily, Patience looked around under the guise of scratching her nose just in case Master Abraham was nearby, sometimes it felt like he could read your thoughts if you weren't careful. Patience didn't mean to have heretical thoughts. She'd tried so hard but... she didn't understand what they'd done that was so bad._

_They'd prayed harder than normal, Gods demands were more ardent than ever as Master Abraham fought for their mortal souls. They'd fasted for weeks now, only permitting themselves to drink the milky water handed out from Master Abrahams holy jug and eat the stale bread Master Abraham provided after six. The fusty stuff made Patiences tummy hurt so bad she had to bend over just to stop the cramps most of the time; it tasted funny and the holy water left everyone drowsy and subdued._

_They were all thinner than normal too. Patience had seen her mother on Wednesday with the other women in the wash room and her body had looked strange. All sharp like the corners of Master Abrahams bible._

_Patience hated it. Hated taking her mug to the pulpit three times a day and drinking it under Master Abrahams all knowing gaze. She'd managed to hide the spasms at prayer times from the aching in her stomach by praying as ardently as she could but a few of the girls hadn't been so clever. The little ones were struggling the most, four year old Persephone had fainted yesterday in the perfumed chapel where the incense burned the air into smoky lines._

_Master Abraham had flown into one of his rages at their continued inability to meet his simple requests sent by the Lord himself when she hadn't been strong enough to fall back into line. He'd dragged poor little Persephone out of the chapel by her thick blonde braid and into the yard. As she had begged for forgiveness at his feet he'd taken his belt to her in front of them all._

_Every blow had been answered by a demand to recite a verse from the bible. Persephones frightened squeals as her back was struck rang through the silence and Master Abrahams angry shouts._

_"Know therefore that the **LORD** your **God** is **God** , the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations."_

_Patience hadn't looked away even when the snap of Persephones ribs sounded. Even when Persephone tried to crawl away and Master Abraham kicked her until she stopped moving Patience didn't look away. Patience didn't look away when things got bad anymore. Not since she'd been forced e to watch The Master burn Chastitys tiny body in her best prayer gown beside the vegetable patch. Patience put everything that hurt her deep down in her heart where they couldn't hurt her anymore because she wasn't going to end up like Chastity._

_Honestly, Patience didn't know how to feel anything much anymore, didn't know how to make herself feel the way she used to when someone got hurt. She used to feel sad, used to try and help as much as she could to hide a lame sheep in the flock but now... There was just this big hole where the feelings used to live and in any case it harder because everyone was lame now._

_All that mattered was keeping the secret alive and not getting caught. Watching Persephone bleed into the grass left her empty; Persephone was weak, she wouldn't last very long if she didn't grow stronger._

_Patience was strong and Patience was clever._

_Because Patience had a secret._

_Bigger than any of her secrets before. Bigger than the red lunch box. A secret no one must find out about. That was important. No one could know... because if she was caught this time..._

_Patience was sinning and even the Master hadn't noticed yet._

_Patience wasn't drinking the holy water anymore. She'd learned to hold it in the back of her mouth so no one saw until she could get away to spit it out. It had been tricky at first but after some experimentation she'd finally perfected her skill. She hadn't taken a drop this whole week and no one had realised. Patience couldn't be certain of this fact entirely of course because half of her wondered if this might all be a big test or something. The Master could be spinning a game, a trap around her without even realising but even if she was right... Even if it was all for nothing she wasn't sorry._

_Since she'd stopped taking the water she'd been amazed at how everything had become sharper, the fog in her head fading off so that the colours shone through again. It made other things clearer too and Patience realised, for the first time in a very long time that something was terribly wrong. Everyone was acting so... weird._

_The commune was always quiet at night especially in the cramped dorms where any sound could make you a target if Master Abraham was sneaking around the halls and listening. Sometimes you heard crying (no one told on these souls. Not when not talking was the only gift left to give each other) sometimes, rarely, people got into other peoples beds and they were noisy for a bit (no one ever told that either) and sometimes, some horrible dark nights, Master Abraham would get into some luckless persons bed. No one was noisy then and afterwards, when he left, that person might pray loudly or just sob into their mattress, the noises sounded the same to Patience. Mostly there was just silence though._

_Silence was Holy according to Master Abraham._

_But this new kind of silence was different and scary. It was like everyone had finally gone to heaven and left their bodies down on Earth with Patience. No one spoke at all except to recite their learned by heart lines and even that sounded funny and weak. The little ones looked yellowish about the ears and hands and stumbled when they walked. The older people gasped when they moved._

_The commune smelled like Chastity had smelled just before they burned her. Sweet and human._

_Patience wanted to leave. She knew it was wrong what was happening around her. Wanted to go somewhere that didn't have Masters or Gods but she was frightened. Chastity had gone outside and come back dying. The Master said she must have made God wrathful, somehow Chastity must have sinned without them knowing. Chastity had been unclean and she'd died._

_Patience didn't know very much but she did know that Chastity had been a good girl. Chastity had been the best at believing; better than Patience. Much better than Patience._

_The big room was lit by lots of candles when they eventually piled in. And they all did pile in, pile was the word for it; even the older women who usually stayed in the washing room with the big sticks were here; scowling at the little girls and boys who walked too slowly and cried when someone bumped against their tender skin._

_It was called the big room because of the big windows which looked out past the gates but it wasn't really that big. It was cramped with everyone in it. As soon as her line had filed in Patience got into her regular place beside the twins Jonathan and Michael. Patience nearly always had to stand with the boys these days because she was getting tall._

_Master Abraham said angels were taller than houses. Master Abraham, when he was happy, said Patience reminded him of an angel._

_Master Abraham said a lot of confusing things. Especially when Patience had to go to his special rooms._

_Sometimes Master Abraham said Patience was a bean growing into a tree and then he'd stroke her hair. Patience had hair like Master Abraham, so blonde it could almost be white. Patience was tall like Master Abraham. Patience hated Master Abraham and she thought sometimes, when he would make her read the bible to him or sit beside him on his sofa that he knew it and found it funny. Patience thinks that that's why he makes her stay so close to him, why he told her mother not to talk to Patience anymore._

_Patience was special to Master Abraham and other people had noticed. No one talked to Patience anymore. Chastity was the last one who'd dared and she was just burnt ash now._

_Master Abraham was busy counting them, tapping heads as he walked up and down the formal lines. People had to move to make room for him as he passed and the children tumbled over in confusion until they remembered not to do it and scrambled to their feet again clumsily._

_Someone coughed._

_Everyone coughed in the commune; even Patience. The place was damp and sad and the fresh cloth to make clothes had become rarer and rarer. It got so cold some nights that Patience almost wished someone might get into her bed and lay with her like some of the others did for the warmth. She'd peeked over her blanket before and their faces when they rose were lovely and red. She wanted to touch those cheeks. Wondered if they'd burn her fingers like fire did._

_They were all there, Master Abraham said so when he'd finished walking the lines so that meant it had to be true. Everything Master Abraham said was true even if it didn't make sense; that's what her mother had told her. Patience didn't dare look around to see if her mother was at the back. If everyone was indeed here then they must be about to be punished. God must be angrier than ever and the dark dangerous look in Master Abrahams eyes actually frightened Patience as he stared down at them all._

_His suit was pretty. A diamond in the dirt standing in front of his desk and he was holding a box. A new one that rattled in his hands as he bounced it up and down happily. He was smiling that smile that meant someone was going to be beaten._

_Master Abraham beat them all sometimes. Sometimes he beat Patience until she couldn't move any more. He would say that the flesh was weak when he beat them. And then he would smile._

_Patience was strong though and she watched silently as The master called the smallest boy in the commune over to him. Steven was barely two but he knew to come to The Masters feet when his name was called. The Master ordered Steven to take the box and hand out his gift to them all._

_The Master said it was a recipe from heaven; it was the bread made by God and it would make the flocks souls strong. Patience watched as one by one her companions took a chalky white lump from Steven; Rebecca, Eve, Malcolm, Jack, Jonathan, Michael and then her. Steven thrust it into Patiences hands and moved on quickly; Master Abrahams sighs said he was growing impatient and that meant pain. Patience waited until the boy had moved on before staring down at the strange thing._

_Such a small thing and yet it felt so heavy in the shell of her hand. It looked like white dirt and it crumbled a little in her fingers. Dust rolled through the gaps between her nervous digits and fell to the floor. Patience quickly nudged her foot to cover the mark in case The Master was looking her way._

_He wasn't though. His attention was rapt; watching to make sure everyone took the bread. He was so intent he looked like a great hawk, eyes zooming in to minute details the way he would when he asked questions in the sermon._

_When everyone had a piece he called Steven back and made him open his mouth. Steven obeyed because to not do so was madness. Patience watched as master Abraham placed the white chalky lump on the tip of Stevens pale pink tongue. The Master smiled as he watched the boy eat and then stroked his hair in a gesture so kind that Steven flinched uncertainly._

_Patience saw Master Abraham whisper something to the boy before he looked up at them all and said they should follow Stevens lead. The flock obeyed. Except for Patience._

_Her muscles contracted in the immediate obedience only Master Abraham could conjure but something, some latent instinct, stayed her hand. Perhaps it was the growing feeling of discontent or rebellion that had creeped into her head ever since Chastity or perhaps it was the way Master Abraham was watching them all without eating himself. The bread felt too heavy, the chalk clung to her fingers as though begging to stay there and just at the point she should place the bread into her mouth along with everyone else a reckless and sinning thought crossed her mind._

_Patience didn't eat the bread. Instead, she tucked it away into her pocket when no one was looking. Most people, especially the ones closest to the stern older women swallowed very quickly. A few people who ate made faces like the faces pulled when drinking the holy water and Patience was glad she didn't eat the bread. She hated the holy water._

_Patience was strong and Patience was fast and Patience was going to leave here one day soon._

_Master Abraham nodded succinctly when he was sure that they'd all followed his order and then moved customarily to pray. Patience got down to her knees as she always did, ignoring the way the joints cracked horribly against the thin carpet. Praying for so long used to hurt when she was small but the years had hardened the pads of her knees now. She could kneel for hours; she was getting stronger._

_Some of the little ones whimpered as they mirrored her movements. Their limbs hurt them so very much these days. Patience caught a glimpse through the big windows as the slight confusion was corrected. There was a whole outside world there waiting for her. The sun was setting against the line where the view ended and the sky was a pinky hue._

_Chastity used to say that the sun needed to sleep just like them as they clambered into their beds at night. Chastity had liked to feel the sunshine the way Patience had not; near the end she'd cried to be outside and not tucked away in her cot. She'd begged Patience to help her. There were no windows in the dormitories._

_They all listened as Master Abraham read out a psalm. The words felt like water; droplets of faith tumbling into their ears and weighing heavily onto their brains._

_Patience thought she could feel his eyes fall on her as he spoke and squeezed her own eyes shut tightly. Rocking as she mouthed the odd word and hoping that would be enough to convince him._

_The slam of the book shutting coupled with the light footsteps stopping in front of her said she had not been so lucky. Large, smooth hands reached out to touch her face. She schooled her features into blank piety and refused to open her eyes. A pointless and dangerous rebellion she shouldn't do but yet... She tried to pretend he wasn't there. Sometimes that was enough to make him go away. Two thumbs, one over each socket, pressed down and drew red patterns on Patiences inner eyelids. The pressure was uncomfortable but not painful; the real worry was that The Master might try and push her eyeballs all the way into her skull._

_Master Abraham was a philosopher of science. He had been tasked to learn everything he could. Master Abraham had letters after his name and God had seen to it that he'd been to the finest schools. Patience knew it because he'd told them once after bending baby Jennifer's arms all the back to see how far they'd go until they snapped. Baby Jennifer had died in the end. 'Gods will' Master Abraham had said calmly over his meal while the child's mother had cried._

_The fingers pressed harder when she didn't move and Patience knew she would lose even if she won. She had to open her eyes, had to give in or he'd hurt her. Hating that she wasn't brave enough to go against him for long she tried to flutter her lashes in a mute surrender but found she couldn't against his ever pressing thumbs. This was his game. His rules and she was breaking them. She sensed it when he leant closer because she could smell his breath. He always smelled of that strong perfume and mints. He smelled nice enough some days that the smells became horrible._

_"Are you devout in your faith Patience?" Master Abraham asked just loud enough that everyone could hear._

_Patience felt panic well up inside her as it always did whenever the Master spoke directly to her but she was stronger now and the feelings didn't consume her; even as she felt her eyes squeak from the pressure she wheezed out a hazy affirmation._

_"Yes Master."_

_Patsy knew just from his voice that Master Abraham would be smiling that smile that always made Patsy certain he was laughing at her._

_"And are you ready to be free Patience?"_

_For a moment the panic seemed to take hold of her. Her hands flexed and she wished, oh how she wished that she was big as an angel. Wished she could hit the Master until he disappeared or at least until she made that smile go away. Did he know her secret? Patience shook but managed a nervous._

_"Only to the hands of God Master."_

_There was a long, drawn out pause as the thumbs pressed down hard enough to hurt and then the fingers left her eyes to cage both sides of her face. Patience was momentarily blinded as her eyes sparked white dots in her vision but habit forced her to remain still until he was done with her._

_Master Abraham was indeed smiling as he leaned forward so their noses touched tip to tip._

_"What are wages of sin my little bean?" His voice was like butter, like silk, like rain. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him._

_"The wages of sin is death Master." She croaked through the bars of his fingers and was relieved when the answer, answered so many times before, apparently satisfied him. To her horror the hands left her face only to make room for him to plant a dry kiss on Patiences forehead. Patience felt her skin crawl at the sensation and embarrassment that he had shown such favouritism in front of the entire flock. No one would talk to her now. They would be afraid of her even more._

_"You are a brave girl Patience. I feel sad not to be here to see you get your reward." He didn't look sad, his mouth still curled in that cruel smile as he said it but he finally took a step back as he spoke. She felt her body sag slightly with the release and willed herself not to shake in front of him._

_His attention had moved on, his arms opening wide as though he might try to embrace them all._

_"You will pray for one hour. Here, together and then you will be free. God is happy with you all."_

_Someone Patience did not see seemed to hesitate and then raise their hand. Master Abrahams smile flickered as he stared at the questioner but he inclined his head in mockery for politeness._

_"Won't you stay with us Master?" It was Moira. Patsy recognised her high voice from the washroom. Moira liked the stick almost as much as The Master liked his belt._

_Master Abraham smiled faintly and shook his head as though apologising. His voice was oily when he spoke, ringing with authority._

_"No. God has called me to stay and continue his work. I must leave. You should begin your prayers now or you will miss your chance."_

_The statement was not a request. Patience took one final look at Master Abraham as he wiped his clean hands on the lapels of his handsome suit, always smiling and closed her eyes again. So did everyone else._

_They started to pray, all breathing turned calm and rhythmic as habit overturned any fears or qualms. Patience wasn't quite brave enough to peak and see the Master leave but she listened for the noise. That was off too; the door closing was usual but then came another noise. Unfamiliar. Something heavy hitting the door. Like knocking but louder._

_No one else said anything and the noise went away soon enough. Patience scrunched up her eyes like always but she didn't pray. Patience hadn't prayed since Chastity. A god who made good girls dirty and left them to die wasn't a God she had much to say to anyway._

_The silence was all consuming. Minutes bled and stretched out into blank expanses of time. Patience went somewhere else, her mind floating somewhere above her head until-_

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

_Cautiously, wary of being spotted peeking, Patsy cracked open an eye to search for the unusual noise. She found the source immediately. It was Steven. He'd fallen onto the ground face down and his head was rocking into the hard floor. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Patsy gave up all pretense in light of this unusual sight and turned to see what other people would do about this. Stevens legs were sticking out stiffly and his head kept hitting the floor while his body jerked._

_A few others had started to look down too at the noise but their expressions weren't curious, just vacant like they didn't see what Patience saw._

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk went Stevens head against the floor._

_Patience warred with herself about whether to go over and turn the child over. Someone, anyone, should do something. But perhaps their focus was elsewhere. A few people were rippling out of place as someone in the back seemed to be falling to the ground as well. To Patiences horror the twins beside her stiffened and tumbled down almost at exactly the same time. They didn't brace as they aimed towards the ground and both of them lay rigid as their bodies shook and convulsed._

_Patience gave a cry of fear and alarm before she could stifle it as spit flecked out of both boys mouths and winced in expectation of someone's admonishing hand landing against her head for the show of emotion but none came. Everyone was twitching now. A man, Victor, near the back was still standing but his face seemed tortured. He was waving his arms in the air and grabbing at things unseen with a look of utmost revulsion and horror in his eyes._

_Patience had to step forward hurriedly as someone directly behind her fell to the floor, their head slid down the backs of her legs and made her wince. Twisting to see who it was now she spotted Hannah, a girl a few years older, hitting the ground and shaking. Something cold and wet stayed on Patiences legs and she cringed as she bent to touch it. Foam. White, spit flecked foam was dissolving there but more of the stuff was tumbling out of Hannah's open, gasping mouth. Her eyes were rolling back into her skull as she croaked and gasped, her body hitting the floor every second or so._

_Patience backed away from everyone, frightened and confused. No one followed her. More of the grown ups were clawing at the air. As she watched disbelieving a large man, Tobias, lept forward and grabbed a tall woman, Gemima, by the scruff of her neck and began to claw at her hair. Biting and pulling with large, crazed eyes._

_Patience saw the door just behind Moira, the woman who'd dared ask a question, back. Moira herself was apparently busy, she was scratching at her arms and hands, her long nails raking pink lines into her papery skin as though it was an itchy dress she no longer liked to wear._

_Patience watched them all as one by one the entire room became enthralled by whatever plague had been set upon them. The air broke out in screams of pain, of panting, desperate breaths and the blur of movement as neighbour turned on neighbour with murder in their heart._

_Patience knew she had to escape. The door was only a few feet away and she ran desperately towards it, ducking a clawed hand that shot out as she passed by and flew at the old brass door handle. It didn't move, didn't budge one millimetre from where it was though she jumped up and down and tugged with all her might. She may as well have been Noah shouting at the rain._

_It didn't matter how much she tried. The flood was coming. The flood was here._

_Patience could feel her heart drumming in her chest as the violence escalated. Moira was staring at her fingers apparently transfixed an arms length away as though she'd never seen them before; they were painted red with blood and her arms hung open lewdly like smiling mouths where she'd dug so deep she'd pierced skin and muscle._

_Little Stevens body couldn't be seen anymore as the confused, angry, frightened adults stampeded over the children on the ground, stomping and biting and striking out with muffled cries of pain and fear spurting out from everywhere. A few crunches said skulls had been crushed._

_The noise was growing in intensity as Patience was pushed against the wall, the rooms size being eaten away and filled with panic and yet... Somehow, Patience managed to hear the soft click when it came faintly through the small metal grill at the top of the wall connecting the big room to the corridor. A small part of her seemed to have been expecting something like this and pure instinct could be the only reason that she dived to the floor despite the danger of everyones uncaring feet when she did._

_There was a moment of flightless terror as she landed awkwardly amongst shaking, twitching bodies and white foam that had gathered in puddles here and there. She had just enough time to gasp as a heavy shoe collided with her shoulder and then the world was bleached of all colour and sound._

_Light lost all meaning even though she closed her eyes and pressed her fists against them. Patience was lost like Christ in the desert and she, at least, didn't have a holy father to turn to._

_Screams and frightened croaks alarmed around the room, scattering above Patiences head but they were muffled somehow by the great whump whump sensation filling her ears and exerting pressure on her back. Her back was warm. Her back was too warm._

_The foot that had stepped on her had been connected to a man, Caleb, and Patience heard his screams before anyone elses. It was animal and insane, the foot danced near to her head dangerously as he hollored and hawed. Patience felt heat grow and die time and again until she couldn't stand the suspense and flipped onto her back._

_She had to see and know. Pretending the monsters weren't there didn't work she'd learned._

_She wished she hadn't done it immediately._

_Caleb was on fire, melting, twisting and burning like a candle and a wick, jerking at his front to wipe at specks of flame while his back blazed red hot. These specks of heat, unchecked, surged to blister up his neck, tonguing the tendrils of the thick curly hair there and using them to climb even higher. The flames caught in one gruesome moment of action and suddenly Calebs scalp was brighter than any halo as he screamed in agony and punched at his own head._

_Patience lay completely frozen as Caleb rushed one foot in front of other beside her prone body, puffing out his cheeks and screaming as though he was trying to summon enough wind to put the fire out. He failed and his moans were terrible even as his eyes rolled back to whites and foam tumbled from his slack, ever blistering face._

_Caleb wasn't the only one. Patience turned to look on each side and saw only fire and burning._

_Fire. The fire had come from somewhere and was spreading from one flailing body to the next. It surged up the walls, it rained down from the ceiling dropping foul smelling smoke that was darkening from white to grey to black as she watched._

_And the door was locked._

_The door was locked and they were trapped. Patience lay very still listening to the cries as her brain pieced her fractured thoughts together again. It was hard but so was dying and Patience didn't want to die. She had to try to get the door open; perhaps the Master had locked it by mistake. She had to try. Everyone was going to die if she didn't. Patience was going to die if she didn't get that door open._

_Getting to the door this time was even harder a task. Those that weren't burning were still confused and foreign about the eyes. Moira had sunk to her knees and was praying as blood seeped around her. Her arms were ribbons of skin tied to the bones and she didn't seem to be aware of the fire or of the panic. Patience recognised the Lord's Prayer through the old woman's whimpers and tried not to cry._

_The door was locked. The door was locked. The door was locked._

_Panic and fear dulled her hands as she clung to the handle and pulled with every fibre of her being. They needed to get out or they'd all die. The Master had to come back. Had to set them free like he said he would._

_She had no time to think on the whys. The air was heavy and soporific even if she hadn't eaten the bread. Her eyes were streaming in a mingle of terror and pain. The heat was everything. The screams simply seemed to be growing higher and higher with every wasted second that passed by as the clever flames danced from one victim to the next and continued to spread._

_Patience was forced to give up on the door only when someone she couldn't recognise through the smoke flung themselves at the unyielding wood and Patience. She felt the hard body slam against her own and flipped away as far as she could manage to escape the crushing weight and the smell of burning and death._

_She heard fists begin to bang on the door just as she had done. The door handle rattled and someone moaned but the door didn't open._

_More bodies were slamming into the first; trying to get out. There were fresh screams as people were trapped on the floor and crushed by the onslaught._

_Then something smashed loudly and with a perversely merry tinkle on the other side of the room. Patience whipped round at the new sound but couldn't see through the press of fighting, jerking, burning people and smoke to find its source. There was another tinkle, fainter this time but it was enough to help prod Patiences lethargic brain into action. A window. Glass. Freedom._

_Patience felt woozy now, her brain slowing as oxygen became harder to obtain. Try as she might to pull deep lungfuls through her mouth it was hard going. The heavy smoke came with each inhale and hurt her chest, stuck the walls of her throat together._

_But the window was open, someone had broken through. Patsy could feel the change in the air, see the way the fire rippled against the new current. There was a draft of cooler air that surely, she told herself desperately, should help to kill the fire but wasn't. Instead, the fire merely rose higher, roaring against the elements and the rooms inhabitants. Scribbling red fingers across the walls, criss crossing towards the window and encasing them all in more smoke. Black now._

_Patience didn't know how she made it through the raging swarm of dying and confused flock, everyone she knew was burning and she couldn't get out. The air was cloying, stinging her eyes and mouth as she dodged legs and hands that sprung out every so often to strike at her. Tears pooled down her cheeks and floated away as steam in the hot temperature. Her skin was scorched and dry even when she jumped a final body and hit a patch of empty space close to the window._

_She was gasping, her lungs clogging and weighing her down, making her legs clumsy as she fell against the desk and squinted blearily about herself._

_The window was indeed smashed, someone had thrown a chair by the size of the hole left and the curtains around the panes were billowing slightly in the breeze as though inviting the flames to reach them faster._

_Patience looked back at the thrashing pile of people behind her and flinched as she realised what she'd seen and not known. The body she'd jumped over was familiar, she knew it well. Patience felt fresh tears as she recognised the face despite the foam and purplish tinge._

_Her mother._

_Hardly daring to breathe she released the desk and crawled back into the fray. They were still at the edge of the madness and her mother was already dead. Patience recognised the glassy eyed stare even if she didn't know to look for the chest movements or the medical stuff._

_In death Patience saw clearly for the first time that her mothers body was eerily small; her hands weren't much bigger than Patiences own and her skin looked stretched across the bones of her face like a bed sheet that had been shrunk in too much hot water. She felt like a stranger before Patience; their enforced estrangement and long absences from each other's thoughts made the proof of such finality strangely surreal._

_Elizabeth had died with her eyes open. Chastity had died with her eyes closed. Patience knelt beside her mothers head and stroked the womans hair shakily. The strands were so thin and brittle that they broke off in her hands and the movement made her neck twist back so that Elizabeth's neck jutted out._

_People were still screaming in the background, the fire still roaring for their blood but it sounded distant now. Happening to someone else. Patience stared up at the smoke and found it was all drifting away. Her chest was hurting, the air thin and her breathing shallow._

_She could die here with her mother. Chastity would be waiting for them... It would be so easy a thing to let go. Everything burnt here, everything hurt and Patience wasn't really strong. It was just a lie she'd told herself. Patience didn't feel brave as she stroked her mothers face, wiping away the queer foam from grey lips._

_The fire had reached the curtains on either side of the window. It scattered as the wind blew and strands of ruined fibres drifted down around her._

_They looked like black feathers. Satans angels enjoying the show._

_Patience struggled against the urge to close her eyes. The air was so thin..._

_She barely felt the hands at her throat choking her. A blurry figure much bigger than her- Always they were bigger than her squeezing out the last drops of oxygen. She was beyond pain. She was floating above everything that could hurt her. She was dying and she was ready._

_She wasn't aware of closing her eyes, of letting her arms fall to her sides until they were flying open again as she was thrown across the room to land messily on the counter of the desk. The smack struck her lungs and reminded them to breathe._

_She needed to breathe. She was dying. This must be what dying felt like._

_Gasping and grabbing her chest to trap the precious air there she turned to see where she'd come. Whoever had thrown her was gone and a smaller shape was jumping up and down on a slumped body on the floor. Were they jumping on her mothers corpse or Patiences attacker? Did it matter?_

_Fire cascaded from around the window just a foot away, a wall of flame ready to meander over her if she wasn't careful and inside it all was the hole. The tiny hole created by some forward thinking person somehow. Freedom of another kind. Freedom to choose her own ending at least. The choice of whether to die by falling or fire wasn't a hard one._

_Patience didn't think. Patience didn't know how to think anymore._

_Patience didn't look back to see more of her world crumble as she lined herself up and took a flying leap. If she was going to die it wouldn't be in fire. The Master wouldn't have her for his heaven._

_The glass was jagged and misshaped as she flung her body through the hole. Sharp edges cut into her sides, the grinning teeth of a mighty demon bearing down on her._

_Patience broke through it all in a shower of glass chips, salty air and embers as the curtain rail collapsed at her back._

_She fell. She flew._

_She didn't even see the water butt until she was smashing through the roof._

\--

When Patsy knew herself again the sun had set on the edge of the horizon and shadows painted the world in purples and greys.

And she hurt.

She really, really hurt.

Hurt with pain so physical it felt like a living organism living beneath her skin, breathing with her, sinking claws into every nerve and fibre of her being.

How long she'd been there, what day it was, why? Why? Came back in increments, trickling through the detritus clogging up her brain and burning the picture of Vals body across her minds eye.

Phils face.

Her own stupidity.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Anger at herself flared as she moaned into a mouth full of sand. She should have thought more, should have called for backup; gone back to the station and brought people with her. Should have known better than to think that she could have solved this on her own. But she hadn't; she'd stopped thinking, stopped being cautious and look where it had got her.

Her breaths ripped from her where she lay, gasping and shivering and useless in the long grass. Dyer must have dragged her somewhere more secluded when she'd passed out because she recognised nothing around her.

Her face felt like it had been burnt, the cheeks and lips hot and swollen. Her eyes had swelled up too so the world was a thin slit of vision framed by eyelashes that had clumped with her drying blood. Her nose wasn't allowing air to flow normally, something tarry coated her throat and mouth even as she returned to total consciousness.

It was not a pleasant journey but she knew the dance pretty well by this stage.

It had been a very long time since she'd been this busted up Patsy thought through a haze of pain as she tried flexing her arm to blindly feel what she was laying on. Her joints twanged warningly and her face throbbed.

She bit back a gasp and plucked the offending limb back with a muted hiss. Hissing hurt too and she endeavoured to lay as still as possible while she waited for her heart to slow down.

Quite a lot of damage then.

Patsy wasn't sure what was dented the most right now; her body or her pride. Dyer had not so much got the better of her as utterly destroyed her. Bastard.

It was annoying being beaten by something like Phil. It was like being outsmarted by Micky Mouse. Patsy tried her arm again and forced herself to feel through the red mist and unresponsive limbs. Sand. Grass and sand. On a hill by the feel of the angle.

So she was on a dune Patsy pondered muzzily as pink and orange lights flashed before her eyes. Most probably he'd dragged her somewhere out of sight. Somewhere he could be sure she wouldn't be found. He must have thought he had her good and proper the smug bastard.

Well, Patsy thought irritably, she'd spent the majority of her life disappointing people and she was damn sure she could manage it with a turd like Phil. It was official; that fucker was going on her to-do list with immediate effect.

She had to try a few times to build up the motion in her limbs, every twitch called on electrical pulses down her arms but bit by stubborn bit she managed to feel where the incline was in the dune and after that it was a simple matter of pointing her body downward. Physics and geography had never been all that interesting to her in school despite Helens attempts but she did understand one thing; shit always flows downstream. After painstakingly moving her resisting limbs the right way it was more of a rolling motion from then on.

It fucking hurt. She was higher up than she'd thought she was. Every turn was like pulling her organs from their official places and her head pulsed overwhelmingly as pressure pushed against the walls of her skull and threatened to burst free. By the time she'd reached the bottom she was past pride and screaming in earnest.

Scratch what she'd said before; Phil fucking Dyer Was her to-do list. She was going to kill him. She was going to rip him into tiny fucking pieces and feed those pieces to wild pigs and then watch the pigs get sold into slices of the finest bacon. She'd pay to watch it eaten too.

By highly educated feminists who spent the entire meal decrying the state of the third world and the tax on tampons.

Bastard.

But retribution would have to be put on hold she told herself firmly as she tried not to get too much sand into the swollen, blind folds that were her face. She couldn't stop the tears but she didn't have to acknowledge them. She was having trouble opening her mouth at the minute: her brain ticked over the possible reasons why this was as her body lay crumpled in the sand. Broken jaw, locked jaw, nerve damage, swelling?

Whatever it was it meant that she needed help, that much wasn't negotiable but where to get that help had to be. Phils revelations from before the fight were hitting her over and over;

'he's got an army... the hospitals.'

No hospital trips for Patsy then it seemed.

Her head swam even when she lay still and she decided that she should just regain her strength for a moment even as her body told her that she had no choice.

Time.

Time wasn't what she wanted right now but it was what she had. Time to feel the temperature drop as twilight handed over to full-on night and the muffled sound of the sea sighed at her. She could only hear it through one ear she noted almost clinically. Old habits and routines were resurfacing without her will. Phil had probably busted the drum. She needed a nurse.

Patsy tried to think through the pain and managed well enough to regret this when she remembered Phils final statement.

'Mister Abraham.'

She didn't even have the energy for fear right now which was probably a good thing. Abraham, Abraham, Abraham. She knew she was crying by the fresh flavour of salt on her lips. She wished she wouldn't but couldn't stop it.

Abraham was here. In Poplar. Gunning for Patsy.

She had known it would happen one day. She'd known it the day they'd fished her out of the water butt, the day she'd given evidence behind a screen in court. She'd known the truth the other night with Helen as soon as she'd read the letter that it was all over no matter what comfort Helen tried to give her. She'd always known Abraham would come for her. She was his unfinished business, his greatest betrayal and failure. Things would have been so much simpler if she'd just burned to death with everyone else.

Her cheek pulsed hotly against the cool sand beneath it and Patsy was tired. A great pulling heaviness was settling over her and making the prospect of just curling up where she was and waiting for the hammer to fall a hugely inviting one. She closed her eyes mournfully to block out the truth and realised immediately that it made no difference. The darkness was there no matter how she looked at it.

She was beat up, half alert and half blind laying where anyone could get her on this beach. The sea roared insistently somewhere off side and Patsy wondered if the water would feel all that cold. Would drowning hurt more than fire?

Stupid.

She groaned aloud in frustration at herself. What the hell was she thinking? She was not going to die! She was going to put her big girl pants on and get to her jeep.

It wasn't much of a plan given the fact she didn't know if she could drive like this let alone factoring in the walk but right now she was working in straight lines only. It was the only plan she had left to her.

She kicked out a foot and felt a seeping heat flush up the limb but it didn't feel broken. Bruised maybe. Phil was an amateur that Master Abraham would chew up and spit out if Patsy didn't get to him first. It was Abrahams first rule whenever he wanted to break someone. First you snap the legs and then you hit the face. Elementary stuff people like Phil wouldn't think of but Patsy had learned from a child. She'd seen it enough times.

Sitting up was always the hardest thing to do after a beating. The blood would surge and crowd and try to push you back down. The key was to swing a little too far so you'd counter it.

Patsy had to try a few times, her ears weren't working properly and her balance was way out. Her ribs were balls of pain in her chest, fresh blood flowed into her mouth and try as she might the horizon was invisible through her useless eyes but she was sitting. Sitting was a step up from laying.

Next she'd have to stand.

This bit was always the hardest and she found herself playing a sort of game she'd played with herself as a child. Move your hand she told herself weakly, it's just a little hand, a few bones. If you don't do it then you lose. If you don't get up then Phil wins and Vals dead for nothing.

At least if she didn't die now she'd get the pleasure of dying later. That was technically one of those silver linings Helen told her to look for.

It still hurt. Moving anything really did hurt until hurt wasn't enough word to encapsulate the sensation. To her relief she quickly found out that her legs weren't broken. Her right knee had swollen up but hell, she told herself darkly, what hadn't swelled up right now. The problem wasn't getting up as much as staying up was.

As soon as she'd got all the way up, teeth gritting against the surging feeling that she was going to expel her kidneys any minute now, she felt her face explode in a fresh wave of pain as the blood equalised and she found herself crumpled in shock on the floor again. Her ribs were definitely in need of some tape. Her hands shook as she wept with stubborn pride and reached to try again.

She couldn't live in a world where Phil Dyer beat her. She was not a little kid anymore and she would not be surprised by anyone. She needed to regroup, recuperate and readjust her world view that was all.

Mostly she needed to get off this fucking beach though!

Patsy shook off the pain and pushed it to the edges of her brain; concentrating only on the feel of sinking sand beneath her hands. She would stand.

She did as well. It felt like her feet were unresponsive blocks of concrete and blood was spurting from somewhere on her face she couldn't identify but she stood up. She was winning right now and it felt damn good.

Actually, it felt pretty bloody agonising to walk, she amended after a few haphazard steps. Something was seriously bleeding on her face, it blurred her vision even worse and she had to practice breathing as she tried for a swipe of her hand against across her forehead. Fuck, everything was in spasms but her vision wasn't quite as obscured now. She had to keep going.

The walk along the beach took a very long time. Any other time Patsy would have said a night time stroll with a few bruises was easy peasy lemon squeazy thanks very much but having to do it now showed her that it was in fact difficult difficult lemon difficult. Luckily; only the sea heard her groans.

The moon rose properly and watched her lonely staggering form as it half dragged itself to the ramp up to the strip. Fluorescent lights from the arcades lazered streams of neon colours into the sky and there was the unmistakeable sound of slot machines and drinking coming up from there.

Patsy had left her jeep a little way past that and didn't relish the walk of shame through the throng. There was always the possibility of course that someone might take pity and carry her there but... Paranoia bit her hard as she thought of Dyer. Abraham had people everywhere.

But if she didn't get to her car where could she go?

Her immediate thought naturally fell to Trixie. Local and a nurse. Trixie would be able to patch her up and pick her from the beach no problem providing she wasn't half way into a bottle somewhere. The only fly in the ointment would be that Trixie would demand answers from her that Patsy wasn't inclined to give right now. Not to mention the way they'd left things yesterday... She wasn't in the mood for guilt trips or shame filled rants either.

Then there was the whole Abraham thing. It wasn't that she'd never told Trixie about how... well, she'd sort of hinted about her childhood once she was sure. But she'd definitely never done details; had never seen the point.

Patsy supposed she could just give a half truth and say Dyer beat her up for sleeping with Val but given recent events Trixie most likely wouldn't be inclined to pity her for her situation. Hmm...

Trixie was out for now then.

Helen? Helen would get here eventually... and then she'd go ballistic when she saw the state Patsy was in. Patsy cringed as she foresaw Helen dragging her into casualty and kicking off at the front desk while Patsy hyperventilated about the prospect of Abrahams spies knowing where she was.

Helen wasn't medically trained either. No, Patsy needed a nurse. Needed someone who didn't know enough to pull threads together. Someone who could deal with a bit of blood and gore.

Patsy sighed and felt her legs try and sink back down. She fought the sensation knowing it would only make getting up again even harder.

There was of course one other person she might be able to try. Delia. Delia was a nurse wasn't she? Wasn't nursing like riding a bike or something? Surely a few broken ribs and stitches wouldn't be beyond the welshwoman? Only snag was the person who she'd have to stitch up. Their last meeting had hardly been encouraging for any more contact... Still, Delia wouldn't turn down a battered woman surely?

Fuck. If Jessie was there then Patsy was screwed.

With a few expletives she managed to pat her pockets and check for her phone. She allowed herself a rueful smile as she found the tell tale lump still in her back pocket. Dyer truly was an amateur to leave her a means of calling for help. Maybe he thought she wouldn't be in any condition to do so but he didn't know how much of a beating she could take. Patsy was born to take hits.

It was harder to manoeuvre through her phones phonebook, her thumbs were frozen from cold sand and her eyes were still providing only half a job but with many failures came success and Delias name was soon hovering under her hesitant finger.

Patsy took a final look at the sea in front of her and took the plunge. So far she'd taken risks and they hadn't paid off, by the law of averages things should be turning Patsy side up by now.

She gave a delirious giggle as she pictured a guardian angel hanging up their halo in disgust as they'd watched her day unfold.

Fuck angels.

The phone was answered surprisingly fast considering caller ID was a thing and Patsy almost started crying again with relief when Delias voice answered;

"What do you want?"

Patsy closed her eyes and tried not to fall over again.

"Delia? I need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh. I'm really sorry about this chapter guys. I know I said it's Delia city and it was meant to be, got a load of dialogue already sketched out for their reparte moments but I got ahead of the story. I was all sparked up to write her and Delia and then the rational part of my head (ignore her, she's annoying and makes me eat salad) made me realise that Patsy had to get to Delia first, I needed a thought process and she's been absolutely battered. There was this whole driving skit I was going to put in but alas realism has had to peek its head over my shoulder and it's just not worked out the way I wanted it to. In lighter news next two or three chapters will be just our two favourites talking and sniping at each other as they meander through my plot.
> 
> Thank you so much for commenting on the last chapter. It really gave me a push and i appreciate any feedback so much especially knowing I had to write about the commune. This wasn't a particularly fun chapter to write, not even dark humour could save me and I'm not completely satisfied with the commune section mainly because I didn't want it to come out like something from the chick who sang in evenescents head but this is what I've got.
> 
> Stick with me, I will get better!
> 
> SB


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiss it all better,   
> I'm not ready to go
> 
> He is we. Kiss it better.

Patsy was laying on a long expanse of cool beach underneath the shade of the widest palm tree she could possibly be under in a dense copse that sprouted just a little way away. A warm breeze fluttered against her clean hair and she could smell alcohol. It was in her hand; a big fancy tall glass like an upside down triangle with no less than three colours in vivid, tooth rotting shades (a sure sign that the day would end in teary phone calls to Helen proclaiming her endless love). The drink was a serious looking thing. It had a paper umbrella sticking out of the top. And no less than three cherries perched jauntily from the prong of a cocktail stick. And a sparkler. The sparkler went pop. 

Such drinks were not to be taken lightly Patsy reflected lazily.

The beach around her looked quite abandoned. It seemed she'd stumbled across some mysterious island paradise the holiday companies hadn't picked up on yet. Long white swathes of softest sand extended along the horizon and brushed against the turquoise sea ahead. It was tranquility at its best.

Also confusing. Patsy could swear she'd been on another beach recently... It had been colder than this and-

She wasn't alone though, a woman sat next to Patsy on her very own towel, her purple dress swishing about her knees as she sat up to read her book. Patsy blinked in confusion as she tried to make sense of Val being here. Val was with her?

Val didn't acknowledge Patsys presence in any way of course but that was hardly a new tactic. She looked quite beautiful in this tropical world. Like she was born to be there. Her hair was down and a pair of sunglasses were balanced jauntily on the top of her neatly coiffed head. Every now and again she would lick the smooth pad of her thumb and turn a page in her book. The rhythmic papery sound was contenting. Patsy could feel the warm sand gliding over her back, the salty flavour in the air and the cool taste of the drink and relaxed.

Perhaps she had dreamed the other beach. What did it all matter? Everything was calm. Everything was peaceful.

Patsy looked out to the softly swaying sea almost closing her eyes. It sounded like singing somehow and....Welsh? Val turned another page in her book gently and Patsy sat up on one elbow. She wished Val would talk to her. Confusion was rising in her as a sense of uneasiness spread.

Somehow, Patsy had never quite learned how to phrase words the right way to Val. Val huffed as though she knew what Patsy was thinking and gently put the book on her lap; she didn't look at Patsy but her expression was peaceful as she watched the world around her. Her expression was the most peaceful Patsy had ever seen her in fact. Eerily so and oddly empty of all of those demons that tortured her.

It was comforting and odd.

Smiling fondly, Patsy reached out to stroke the golden expanse of skin at Vals neck. Stretching to bring their worlds closer just for a moment. It felt cold to her touch. Patsy had a moment of uncertainty as Val finally turned her head towards her. She didn't look right. Her face was too blue like the sea was reflecting all wrong on the thin skin. A spiders web of broken blood vessels branched out across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Looked like poison spreading.

Patsy gasped in shock. Val? What was wrong with Valerie?

Patsy tried to call out, her hands suddenly pulled flat against that terrible cold, cold neck with the strength of an invisible force crushing down on her as the sand beneath her body sunk down and twisted her this way and that. Her ribs burned as she writhed still glued impossibly to Valerie's throat, the smell of rotting flesh wafting up Patsys nose. The sound of screaming filled her ears.

Val watched her without any recognition, there was only emptiness there; she didn't speak, it seemed as though she was waiting for something. Waiting for Patsy to make it all better somehow.

Water was blowing cooly onto Patsys face from the sea which was no longer calm and aqua blue but a swirling darkening vortex of howling waves. 

Val opened her mouth and there was nothing there; just a black hole that went on and on and on. Patsy blinked furiously, wanting to hold Val. If she could just keep Val there with her for one moment maybe she could help. If there was just a bit more time.

Valerie...

Patsy awoke very suddenly as her ribs made their groaning presence known, her eyes slammed open at once only to find confusion all around her. She was laying in a strange bed and she must have been dreaming so heavily she had really been reaching out to touch empty air.

She spent a few bracing moments calming the pulsing drum of blood in her ears as Vals face filled her vision. It had just been a dream after all Patsy told herself firmly; just an awful nightmare. Not real. 

But the dream had seemed real. Val had been right beside Patsy. Alive or something like that. For a few blissful seconds Patsy was spared the realisation of what had happened; jumbled and confused and disorientated as she was.

The unfamiliar scent of someone else's detergent was the main clue to bring it all back.

Patsy closed her eyes and groaned quietly as memories came one by one. The understanding of why Val couldn't have been there beside her. The indisputable truth of it all and then came more visions. Dyer. Dyers fist pounding at her face and Abrahams return and waking up cold and damp on the dune and walking along the beach and calling Delia half buzzed from the pain.

Delia...

Patsy looked up slowly to scan the room. It was a nice airy looking thing with magnolia walls and two small but clean windows to her left. She was laying in a double bed beneath a white and yellow patterned duvet. There was a garden outside by the look of it with a tree, it's verdant leaves hanging limply against the glass, occasionally rustling against the non existence breeze as a tiny bird that was more leg than body chirruped happily; hopping from one branch to another.

For once Patsy could not discern the sound of the sea. The air felt still and oddly peaceful. Painted with only morning shadows from a climbing sun.

The walls were bare of any pictures although along the other side of the room was a great mountain of brown cardboard boxes neatly stacked and all baring words like 'J's primary school stuff' which someone had scrawled across them in messy sharpie italics. 

The space had 'spare room' harmonics in every square inch.

Pushed a little way away from the bed she was laying in and against the wall was what looked like an ancient rickety exercise bike half hidden with only the rubber handle bars poking out from beneath a mound of clean linen. Patsy narrowed her eyes as she spotted a pair of knickers sticking out from the top adorned with a cartoon Welsh dragon placed above a jaunty slogan saying 'fancy a cwitch?'.

Someone close by sighed lazily and Patsy withdrew her gaze quickly, embarrassed, from the interesting undergarment and took in the person sat sprawled out near the end of her bed. Delia. Delia Busby was there, at her bedside apparently and currently fast asleep in a high backed rocking chair with its wood so heavily varnished that it looked like the resin had given its struts an extra inch in circumference.

Delia.

Patsy eyed the sleeping woman nervously. By the look of the grooves in the carpet the rocking chair had been a recent addition to the space and Delia was slumped ever so slightly against the right armrest of the seat, her hand held her face up as she snored delicately. There was a scruffy blue blanket fraying at the edges twisted around her legs and she had dark circles under her eyes which told Patsy plainly that miss Busby had not been sleeping all that much in recent times.

Patsy imagined she could guess the cause without too much trouble.

Patsy was hazy on too many details in recent history at the moment but she didn't think Delia had changed her clothes from when she'd picked Patsy up. A loose t-shirt and soft looking cotton shorts seemed about it, Patsy stared at the short legs poking out from the blanket. Delias dark hair, that she'd evidently slung up out of her way, was now half falling out of its messy constraints and was hovering across Delias sleeping mouth.

Patsy watched the dozing Welsh woman for a few minutes; counting the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as her mind whirred ever on.

Delia looked quite beautiful asleep. Awake however Patsy could only imagine the curiosity that would be aimed her way; not to mention the possible anger or resentment. Patsy shouldn't have involved her. She'd already caused so much damage...

There was a large green medical bag lying half open on the floor beside Delias chair and an overflowing bin beside the bed which was almost spilling out used and bloody bandages along with sterilised wrappers. The air smelled reassuringly clinical and clean. 

And the room wasn't the only one. Patsy scented antibacterial gel on her wrists.

Looking down at her body Patsy realised, with a creeping sense of awkwardness, that she wasn't wearing all that many clothes. A brief inspection was carried out as she silently lifted the bed clothes. Knickers, socks and a vest top. That seemed about everything.

Lovely. 

Her phone, wallet and warrant card would need to be located as soon as possible but therein meant a silent anonymous exit wasn't going to be happening today.

Along with the surreal edge to the situation Patsys body was beginning to make its needs and complaints heard over the confusion. Head: pounding and pulsing like her heart had decided the chest wasn't working out for it as a location anymore. A painful edge to her nose said that one too big sniff would doubtless cause a wave of something horrible. Her ribs burned but seemed relatively unscathed as she forced herself to take shallow breaths. 

Nervously, trying not to wake the sleeping woman in the rocking chair, Patsy reached up and touched her face. Despite the ginger ministrations it still hurt like hell. Her arms felt like worn out elastic, the fingers clumsy and foreign against her flesh. There was something like stitches embedded into her forehead in a crooked line. Her lips and eyes were still swollen but she could see at least.

Vague recollections of the world seen through two tiny slits prompted her to prod at the orbital bones. She winced at every jolt but it didn't seem as though anything was too dangerously damaged. Her jaw was stiff as a board, as she tried to open her mouth experimentally it cracked dangerously and she decided to leave that for a moment. 

Her stomach ached with hunger and Patsy couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything. Come to think of it, she wasn't entirely how long she'd been asleep. Her bladder squeezed and reminded her there were other needs that required her attention too.

Well... it never rained but it poured apparently. Although; to prevent accidents it was probably best not to think about water in any shape or form. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here to pee.

Patsy eyed the door speculatively and gave an experimental flex of her abdomen. Delia gave another sleepy snore and Patsy froze until she was certain the Welsh woman was firmly asleep. This would end badly she knew but if she could just stand up and get to the bathroom without waking the silent Delia things would be much better.

Gritting her teeth and practicing that mindfulness breathing the squad had learned on an away day Patsy sat up in the bed. 

Fuuuuck.

The blanket fell away and she barely recognised her chest under the morning light that filtered through the windows. Yellowish and green and angry at her for moving. She ignored it as she tried not to groan loudly and swung her legs out of bed slowly. Those at least didn't look all that bad. A few little scratches and nicks around her calves and knees but it was nice to know there were parts of her that still worked and didn't resemble a piece of meat on a BBQ.

It was only as she stood up that Patsy realised how bad a mistake that she'd made by trying something so provocative as free movement on her less than prepared body. She managed less than one step before she felt her blood pressure drop through her boots, her heart thump sluggishly in her chest and she tumbled to the floor with a loud crash and skid. 

Patsy breathed hotly into the thick pelt of the carpet, her face burning and a faint trickling starting up in her face as she curled into a ball on her side. Her ribs were screaming, her body throbbed as her heart seemed to glug and pull in her chest.

She'd seemingly woke Delia too because after a loud snort, knees appeared beside her and hot hands were smoothing along her side assessing for damage. Patsy tried not to flinch at the contact. Ashamed to be found so weak.

Then again, she'd been far worse at the beach.

\--

Once Patsy had rattled off the address to a bemused Delia she'd been left with nothing much to do but wait and worry. Waiting was always the hardest part of anything. She'd felt exhausted and bruised and half mad with paranoia that every shadow was the forerunner to Phil returning or Abraham or some other evil bastard wanting their pound of flesh.

She'd shivered as she forced her eyes to stay open. That had been the biggest task. Blood was stinging her eyes and her bottom lip bobbed as it swelled and jutted out past it's usual boundaries. The salty air stung and burned and all she could do was hope Delia truly was coming to get her.

Why on earth Delia had agreed so readily was anyone's guess. Perhaps Patsys state was evident even in her voice. 

How long she'd waited, who she was, why this had happened became harder and harder to recall as the time ticked on. Every time she thought she knew what she was doing it slipped out of her reach. Her head felt increasingly foggy and her eyes began to droop. The sand had been comfy earlier and the desire to drop her weight and fall asleep was looming larger by the second.

And yet she'd mastered the pain. She'd stayed upright and alert; refusing to die quietly.

The rat a tat sound of a car being tortured somehow heralded Delias arrival eventually. Patsy had looked up the ramp to the main strip tiredly to see, with only vague surprise, Jessie's fancy red sports car hopping into view. It was very slow going, the bumper appearing in increments from around the bend as an inexperienced driver pulled up. The smell of burning rubber and an overworked engine confused Patsys senses but she forced herself to stay in the moment for just a little while longer.

Patsy had watched as Delia- because surely it had to be Delia, wound down the window and started peering down the ramp as though she couldn't see Patsy directly in front of her. Evidently Patsy wasn't recognisable in this state. With difficulty Patsy had given the faintest wave of her hand pinned to her side and Delias head had disappeared from the window sharply to be replaced with the rest of her when she opened the door and walked down to the beach hurriedly.

Her face was very pale as she hesitated towards Patsy, still not completely trusting this broken thing in front of her truly was officer Mount. Patsy had tried to smile to reassure her but stopped when Delia gasped and drew a hand to her mouth in shock. It was hard to know how much blood was on her face anymore. Everything was so blurry.

"Patsy?" Delia asked in a shaky whisper, still unsure and Patsy had nodded her head willing herself not to scream as her nose spurted fresh blood with the movement.

"M sorry to... call... You... Just n-... Need bit of." Talking was difficult through her swollen jaw and lips. She couldn't make the words any louder than a sigh and Delia had to come closer to hear her, her arms spreading wide as though Patsy might be about to fall into them any second and her face full of genuine alarm and concern. There was horror there too Patsy noted dully.

"Don't talk. We need to get you to hospital, I need to call an ambulance." Panic tinged Delias words and Patsy winced as she shook her head forcefully. The world shifted on its axis but this was important. Abraham. No hospitals.

"No! No... hospitals... danger... dangerous... Abraham... c-can't go... to hospital Delia." God Patsy was tired, her bones hurt, her skin hurt. She needed better skin.

Delia was staring at her aghast.

"Patsy you're not well. You've been in...' Delia seemed to be trying to work it all out for herself. Patsy could only imagine all of the situations running through the woman's head. 'An accident... I think. You need proper medical assistance." Delia soothed Patsy.

Gentle but firm arms were enclosing around Patsy and steering her forward with surprising strength. Up the ramp. Away from the hated beach. Every step felt like a marathon. Every piece of effort felt like it was the last piece she had left until the next step was demanded of her. It didn't seem to end. 

Some things filtered through though. Delia wanted to take her to the hospital. 

"No!' Patsy actually managed to get volume with this word, her tone as authoritative as she could manage and she shook in Delias arms. 'No hospital... Just you. Someone... Someone will... Hospitals not... safe... Abraham." Patsy was jibbering. Her body shaking as Delia pulled her along like a deflating balloon.

"Of course you should go to the hospital. We'll just get you in the car. It's going to be okay, I'm going to get you help." Delias words were so blissfully kind and Patsy wanted to cry in frustration. She would not go!

With monumental effort Patsy pulled herself away slightly, back down towards the beach.

"No! It's not safe!' Patsy had to make Delia understand. They were on their own out here. Delia would need to do this on her own and when Patsy could think she'd have time to reflect on how shitty this whole thing was to put on the woman but right now...

Delia had stopped, her face a fuzzy outline in dim lighting as she appraised Patsy for what felt like an eternity. She seemed to be mulling this garbled statement over as she assessed Patsys wrecked visage and then, miraculously, she sighed and nodded, her jaw setting into a serious hardness that Patsy wanted to rest her battered face on.

"Okay' shaky, 'right' stronger this time as cogs turned to what was being asked of Delia. ' No hospital then... But I don't have all that stuff at home to help... I'm going to need to get my green bag; I've got most of the kit in the crew room and I can ring Dr Turner is suppose. He still does night calls." This litany didn't seem to be for Patsys benefit but the musical accent calmed Patsy as she relaxed slightly.

Delia, wonderful, perfect Delia, was listening to her. As insane as it sounded. Patsy was saved for now.

All out of adrenaline Patsy did the only thing left to do; she passed out.

\--

"What do you think you're doing?" Delias hands had drifted up Patsys chest to her face and was brushing a thumb against her forehead looking concerned.

"Didn't want to bother you." Patsy gasped as she was poked and prodded efficiently. Delia gave a wry snort as though Patsy had made a bad joke and lent back on her knees, pushing stray hairs from her face.

"I'd rather be woken up than have all my hard work messed up the moment you're conscious." She sounded a mixture of tired and irritated. Patsy winced and rested her cheek on the carpet feeling like a naughty kid.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." She muttered with feeling. So many people she had to apologise to and most of them weren't alive anymore. Maybe if she said it enough to Delia other souls would hear it.

Delia rocked on her knees for a moment and then shook her head.

"You need to get back into bed." 

Patsy looked up at the bed frame a foot or so away and winced. The idea seemed down right impossible from where she was laying.

"Too far." She said shortly through tight lips, the carpet seemed fine, sort of soft and yielding. Delia snorted again getting to her feet.

"Look, I'm getting the impression that you're a bit complicated and stubborn and lone wolfey but I need you to get into that bed." Her tone was gentler now but further away. Patsy disliked the idea of being looked down upon. 

"Just let me get my breath back." She implored to Delias ankle.

Delia didn't move for a second as Patsy willed her breathing to slow down. Her legs felt much weaker on the floor and she resented her body for failing her. Hated that she couldn't walk away from all of this and that someone else was having to tell her what to do.

She was not prepared for the feeling that occurred just as she'd mastered her breathing; the sensation of strong arms sliding underneath her and then seeming to fly, her stomach twisting as she was raised up from the floor. The shock of being held so bizarrely almost distracted Patsy from the pain as Delia curled her forearms up and pulled Patsy protectively against her abdomen.

Patsy blinked and stared foolishly at the tanned line of Delias neck. Delia was strong. Delia was bloody beautiful close up too as she hauled Patsy a little more securely into the hoop of her arms without apparent difficulty and began walking.

Patsy felt the single step and then then careful lowering of her body back in the bed. That was interesting too, Delia really was lowering her, not just tossing her weight as though she was struggling. Then she was free and the soft enveloping warmth of the mattress crowded Patsy again. When she looked up Delia was rubbing her forearm slightly with a determined gleam in her eye.

"You... lifted me." Patsy said weakly and Delia looked momentarily startled as though surprised Patsy hadn't expected it somehow before shrugging.

"I... I do a lot of weights work. Besides you're hardly huge." Delia sounded slightly shy as Patsy stared at her in awe.

"I'm not huge? I'm a foot taller than you. What do you eat in the morning? ACME spinach?" Patsy couldn't help but smile a little at the silly image and was gratified when Delia returned it a little cautiously.

"It's nothing, like I said I was in an accident. Afterwards you take your body more seriously.' With a slightly self conscious pat to her thigh Delia shrugged. 'Cardio and weights. I won't let the weakness get me." 

Patsy nodded in silent agreement; she could relate in a way but the shared comerarderie appeared to be over already. Delias expression had grown shuttered slightly as she levered her body to perch on the edge of the bed by Patsys hips. She was searching Patsys face with unbridled curiosity and Patsy could probably guess what was coming.

An interrogation earned by rights but nonetheless unwelcome.

"What were you trying to do just then exactly?" An interrogation that would take time it appeared. Delia was waving at the carpet airily and Patsys stomach growled making them both flinch.

"Umm... Toilet. Thought I could make it in time." Patsy said in a small voice. She disliked having to explain herself no matter the reason. Delia nodded seriously.

"You'll need to eat something too. Give it five minutes to get my breath back and I'll carry you to the bathroom. It's only next door."

Patsy blushed as she envisioned being carried bridal style along an imagined green mile of corridor.

"That's not necessary,' she said quickly, 'it just took me by surprise that's all. I'll get there on my own."

Delia gave a slight dry cough of disbelief and bent down to pick up a half velcro'd blood pressure cuff. She turned it in her hands slowly, not looking at Patsy. Rubber wires attached to gauges and pumps that hung down from the cuff flapped uselessly at the movement.

"I doubt it. Don't worry, I used to be a professional. I won't peek when you go' Delia rolled her eyes like she'd heard such protests before, 'but you'll need help walking... You took quite a beating." Round and round the cuff went, the speed picking up on the last sentence so the tiny white writing became a blur. Patsy chewed her lip before recalling it was sore and letting it go hurriedly.

"It was just one of those things." Don't ask me to explain. It's too big. I don't want to talk about it.

Delia frowned harder so two tiny furrows grew between her eyebrows.

"Didn't seem like the sort of thing that just happens and...' Delia seemed to struggle with herself as curiosity fought good manners. 'I think I deserve an explanation of sorts? I want to know who did this to you." She finished it uncertainly her eyes peeking under her lashes at Patsy who decided to take a master class in ceiling watching.

"I walked into a door." Patsy said after a moments hesitation. How could she explain this mess to someone like Delia? Delia was one of those good types that would judge. People always judged and... Patsy didn't know if she could stand to talk about Val at the moment. She felt a hot well of shame at the mere thought of the woman. She should have answered her phone.

Delia had finally stopped turning the cuff to twist her body towards Patsy, her expression incredulous and slightly insulted.

"You must have walked into a very big door with very big fists repeatedly to sustain the injuries you did." Delia said pointedly, her eyebrows raised and Patsy wondered how many school children had received similar looks when returning incomplete homework.

"I have a bad sense of direction sometimes, known for it in fact." Wasn't that the truth. Always choosing the wrong paths to walk. Always wrong.

"What were you doing on the beach?" Delia went on, evidently on a roll having spent however long creating her list. Patsy sighed quietly.

"Just getting some sea air. It's good for you."

Delia nodded slightly and smiled sweetly.

"Yes it seems to have done your health no end of good Patsy. So someone attacked you there?" 

"It was a door I told you." Patsy repeated tonelessly, laying statue like in Delias bed in Delias house knowing she owed Delia more than this.

"I see... A door with fists?" Delia probed, her accent picking up flavour as she tilted her face. The sun glided down the smooth planes of her cheeks and Patsy wanted to go back to sleep. Wanted not to think anymore. Delia looked far too understanding and kind, it hurt to see it.

"No.' Patsy answered calmly. 'Just a bog standard door you might find anywhere."

"On a beach?" Delia said flatly, clearly frustrated at Patsys obviously fake story.

"Took me by surprise as well." Patsy muttered flexing her shoulder slightly. Everything burned.

"Patsy..." Delia said with a rueful sigh, her hand reaching to graze Patsys wrist. The warmth from her hands, the unconscious show of compassion brought tears to Patsys eyes and she had to return to the ceiling watching for a masters degree in avoidance.

"Where's Jessie?" Patsy asked suddenly, the absence of Delias girlfriend had only just dawned on her and she wasn't keen to continue the current line of questioning. Delias cheeks flushed a delicate pink and she looked back to her lap hastily, the warm enveloping hand retreating, eyes downcast.

"She's at her parents.' Delia said in a small voice, 'we're not... I told her I needed some space."

"Good, sounds like a brilliant decision from you both." Patsy said brusquely, trying to hide her surprise at the woman's back bone. She'd been pretty certain Delia would roll over and take it; so Miss Busby had some hidden metal after all. 

And she was strong enough to lift Patsy without apparent difficulty.

Delia had a lot of qualities that on any other day Patsy would probably avoid. Not because she didn't like them either. It was quite clear Delia was too good, she'd break Patsys heart faster than you could say Ikea.

"Yes...' Delia cleared her throats as though it was full of something she couldn't breathe through and went onto her previous strain of thought. Patsy cursed Jessie for being such an obvious disappointment Delia could brush past it. 'In any case, I don't believe your door story. If someone hurt you we need to go to the police."

The idea of turning up at the station and accusing her sergeant to people who probably worked for Abraham made Patsy smile bitterly.

"Sweetheart I am the police and even I know it's useless. I'd get nowhere... Besides' Patsy said quickly, 'I told you; it was an accident, just a door I didn't see." 

Delias shoulders tensed at the term of endearment and turned back to Patsy her cheeks more flushed but with real anger now.

"Accident?' She said wide eyed. 'I worked a few years in a&e, I know what a beating looks like Patsy. Three fractured ribs, a fractured collar bone, two black eyes, a swollen nose that you somehow didn't manage to break, cuts and abrasions to your face down to the epidermal layer. A major concussion, collapsed ear drum, your spleen close to rupturing, hypotensive. Not to mention the boot shaped bruises on your back and chest. You've got eight stitches in your head, I did it as neatly as I could but I'm rusty as hell. Had to practise on this before I dared have a go on your face.' Delia rummaged in her shorts pocket and pulled out something round and orange. When she turned it round for Patsys inspection a few parallel lines of blue stitches could be seen on the orange skin. Patsy could only hope she looked better than the bruised piece of fruit.

'You've been unconscious since the beach, anything could have gone wrong and you wouldn't let me take you to the hospital. Someone beat the living shit out of you and scared you so badly the only option was to call me, someone you barely know for help. That doesn't all happen by accident Patsy." 

The strain of the situation in Delias voice was obvious and Patsy had to close her eyes to shut out the terrible sucking guilt. She was such a shit; so disappointing to everyone.

"I'm sorry Delia. I shouldn't have ever... I'm so sorry." She should have stayed on the beach. It was only delaying the inevitable anyway.

"Don't be silly.' Delia said sharply as though she'd read Patsys mind, her wandering hand returning to Patsys wrist and squeezing gently. 'I just don't understand why you chose me, I mean, your best friend is Trixie after all."

Damn small village life and everyone for knowing Patsys business. Well, she could hardly tell Delia about Trixie and Toms split. Although she might already know; mousy might still be proclaiming it from the rooftops. Trixie would doubtless be turning up to the school at some point in the future if that was true though.

"I couldn't ring Trixie, she's pissed off at me." Patsy explained with her eyes still scrunched shut. She had to smile when Delia gave a wry snort.

"You must have done something seriously wrong to annoy her then or did you forget that I was pissed off at you too Patsy." Delia didn't sound annoyed, exasperated maybe, maybe amused too if the faint lilt said anything.

Patsy opened her eyes and, puffing out her cheeks to stop herself hissing, tried to shuffle her body a bit more upright, Delia watched her carefully, poised to help if needed.

"I know' Patsy said tiredly as she lay up in bed and fixing Delia with a serious stare, 'I'm sorry about it Delia. Jessie and me... I didn't know who Jessie was. I swear I didn't know she wasn't single."

Delias nostrils flared slightly as she breathed tensely, the large pink elephant in the room had been recognised, before nodding like a robot.

"I believe you.' She said tightly, 'I'm not really angry at you; only surprised. I thought... Of course you should have told me but...' Delia shrugged. 'You hadn't made me any promises. It's not your fault. We had...' Delia picked at her nail distractedly, her eyes controlled anger. 'Have, problems, I knew something was wrong but... It's hurt pride more than anything. I suppose I never assumed someone you love would be able to hurt you." 

Patsy didn't particularly feel buoyed at Delias apparent forgiveness. She'd still been careless, still done damage, she could see it in the line of Delias stiff back and Patsy found herself turning her hand palm up and tracing the line of Delias palm without really thinking about why.

"I'm grateful to you more than I could say. I knew I could count on you." Patsy said sincerely to break the cool silence.

"You hardly know me." Delia said cautiously probably sensing stalker tendencies and Patsy smiled humourlessly.

"I'm usually good at working people out. I had a lot of hopes you wouldn't let me down. I don't really know why and I haven't given you any reason to agree but... I just trust you." Patsy blushed as she said it and shifted uneasily on the bed, very aware of her bare legs a hairsbredth from Delias body.

"You trust me to help you get better' Delia began deliberately, 'but not to explain what happened to you?"

"It's better if you don't know." Patsy warned calmly and watched the anger flair in Delias eyes again.

"Patsy... I've been lied to about many things and by many people. I don't want to be lied to by you. Again. You said you trust me so trust me."

Touché. Patsy met Delias stare with her own trying to bully her brain into working properly; to gather enough information to satisfy the woman and not give any about her private affairs. It was hard. The whole mess was so tangled Patsy struggled to pick at a single stand.

"I' Patsy took a deep breath and looked back at the ceiling. 'I've been investigating Sister Winnifreds murder as you know.' Delia gave a cursory nod of her head but didn't speak. 'Well, I think I know who was involved in the murder, or at least the group. We think Winnifred heard something or saw something and it started her poking around into a new gangs business."

Delia frowned and brought her leg up onto the bed, rubbing at her hip as she concentrated.

"A gang? In Poplar?" Delia asked incredulously and Patsy managed a halfhearted shoulder shrug in lew of spasming arms.

"I know, it's far fetched but there you go. The new gangs quite well connected it seems. Lots of fingers in pies; drugs, prostitution that sort of thing."

"And the gang beat you up?" Delia surmised shrewdly making Patsy twitch.

"No... I told you-"

"You told me it was a fucking door and I'm telling you that someone beat you up. A disgusting human you should press charges on." Delia interrupted impatiently.

"I cant' Patsy said in frustration, 'that person happens to be someone in a position of power. I'm screwed. Probably not got a job anyway. There was another murder on-' Patsy stopped abruptly as she realised that she had no idea what day it was. 'What day are we on?"

"Sunday.' Delia supplied calmly, 'You've been out of it pretty much since I got you here. I must say' she went on airily, a hint of a dimple peeking out on her chin, 'the stairs were good fun. Haven't had to wrestle someone out of their clothes and into a bed in quite a few years. Good to know I still have it in me."

"I'm sorry.' Patsy said automatically but without much conviction. Looking at Delia now Patsy didn't think she'd mind all that much being manhandled up a few stairs... In better conditions anyway she told herself as her bladder squeezed painfully. 'Err... Thursday then. Someone... A friend' Vals dead body hung in front of her eyes and wiped away and happiness. All dead. 'They were found similar MO to Winnifred. I got a tip off that the culprit would be at the scene."

"And were they?" Delia asked rapturously and Patsy sighed before nodding.

Outside the room a bird tweeted merrily, the air felt warm and sweet and the smell of crisp linen was calming. Delia was watching her quizzically but mercifully appeared to have run out of questions to ask. Perhaps she didn't think Patsy would answer any more. Patsy stared up at her, eyes half closed as she relaxed a little.

The moment was broken by Patsys stomach growling angrily. They both looked down at Patsys pale expanse of stomach at the sound, jolting slightly at the loud noise. Delia smiled.

"Okay. I won't ask anything else at the moment. Thank you for telling me. Now' Delia sighed and heaved herself back to her feet, all business. 'Let's get you to the bathroom and then I'll make some soup. I haven't eaten much either the past few days. How does that fit you for a plan?"

Patsy looked up, pushing away the habitual need to deny anyone trying to help her and managed a weak smile.

"I think.... I could almost kiss you Miss Busby." She said smiling a little to show she wasn't serious. Delia grinned and shook her head.

"I should think so too. I don't let any old woman bleed into my best carpets you know." Delia said dryly.

Patsy couldn't help but smile a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my lateness. I've been strangely busy socially, lots of plans in the evenings alongside anatomy and physiology classes that have left me brain cabbaged by the end of them. This coupled with a renewed energy for running (getting there people, one piece of active wear at a time *gay sigh*) has cut down my writing time. I do hope you enjoyed reading this; I'm feeling a bit rusty writing romance again but I'm sure I'll get back into the swing. The next few chapters are just them so dine out while you can. Then we shake the bottle again!
> 
> SB


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're down and out now but I need you to be brave. Hiding from the truth ain't going to make this all okay.

__Any amusement from either of them had long since evaporated by the time they reached the bathroom. Through mutual consent Delia 'helped' Patsy through to the what Helen, when she was trying to be polite, called 'the smallest room' while Patsy self consciously told herself that it was actually Delia who needed the assistance. It seemed to work for them. It helped too that Patsy had some grounds to believe her fantasy.

Because Delia had a limp apparently. A bad one.

Patsy had been mildly out of breath by the time she'd stubbornly got herself to the edge of the bed again so she'd missed the first few movements of Delias but when Delia had crossed the room to open the door for their passage Patsy couldn't miss it. Delias right leg crumpled from the hip making her hop awkwardly on every other step, her face was drawn with the effort and Patsy couldn't help but wonder at how she was standing. Or how she, Patsy, had managed to miss it. The doors creak was the only sound as Delia turned to find Patsy watching her carefully from the bed.

By the blush on her face Patsy knew Delia was embarrassed at the interest and it took a moment for Patsy to realise she was staring at the Welsh womans hips a little too intensely for politeness. With a sudden jerk Patsy returned to face height and found Delia grinning at her a little sheepishly.

"You can ask if you like." Delia offered with a business like bravado that did not reach her eyes. Patsy, unable to stop herself, tracked Delias unconscious hand as it reached to smooth her right hip convulsively while Delia hopped a few steps and leaned on the post at the bottom of the bed for support. Patsy looked up at Delia who was still watching her face with a sort of weary resignation as though she'd been through this scene more than a few times and felt her curiosity burn away as Delias misgivings melted her slightly.

"I won't ask you to give up what you don't want to. I'm just impressed you lifted me that's all." Patsy said quietly, remembering how many times she'd wanted someone to say that to her. Choice was everything to those who didn't have one after all.

Delias cheeks pinked a little more at the words and she smiled as she hopped to stand before Patsy with her arms reaching in readiness to lift Patsy to her feet.

"I already told you; I was in an accident,' Delia said a little ruefully when Patsy took her hands cautiously, 'some things never go away. I'll be alright, it's just sleeping sitting up for a few nights. I couldn't leave you on your own for too long. Head injuries have a habit of creeping up on you; so I just thought a watched pot and all that. I thought it was best I was close."

Delia watched Patsy with a slightly indulgent set to her lips and it was Patsys turn to blush as she realised the care Delia had shown her. Their eyes met across the room and... There should have been violins, the calendars on the walls should have artfully began dropping their pages, clocks should have spun I a frenzy of cogs and spigots, but this did not happen. Instead Patsys stomach gurgled like a half closed tap in the night making both of them jump. Their eyes broke away.

The unspoken shared sentiment remained between them though and it left Patsy softer than she was prepared to admit given the fact she was going to have to rely on someone for help. It tempered the immediate sensation of shame and guilt for being the cause of Delias discomfort too. Selfish, whispered the harsh voice at the back of her brain that was always watching.

Delia didn't seem to mind too much though as they worked to get Patsy standing. Patsy slung an arm around Delias strong shoulders and had to stifle the strange feeling that she'd done this before. She tended not to touch others unless there wasn't a choice, strangers too close made her uneasy even now but Delia seemed calm and normal and Patsy couldn't help but copy the sentiment as they trudged out of the room.

Then Patsy had lost interest in Delia or her own motivations. It was hard not to; every movement was barely concealed agony. Even the gentlest of steps sent shockwaves through Patsys chest, her face throbbed and a thin sort of wetness on her lip said she was either bleeding lightly or snot was making an appearance. Delia wrapped her left arm tightly around Patsys waist, her hand splayed comfortingly around Patsys ribs, bracing them just a little from the impact.

Patsy thought they must look a strange sight; her gasping and sweating, Delia limping, their height difference. A team of two at a spectacularly inappropriate three legged race.

By the time the bathroom, with its cheerful beachy theme, loomed ahead Patsys stomach was roiling, her lips clenched shut tightly to stop any accidental vomiting. Sweat patina'd her face and throat and as for her legs, her legs didn't feel like legs. Felt like someone had come in the night and replaced them for two useless lumps of lead that weighed her down heavily so every step was taxing.

Neither of them were smiling as Delia deposited Patsy on the toilet, both of them red faced and strained as Patsy sucked in stifled breaths and Delia lent against the door.

There was a cheerful, distressed decorative metal arrow over the small frosted glass window pointing towards them saying 'happiness'. Patsy wanted to pick it up and throw it out the window. Delia was rubbing her hip painfully as she rested her forehead against the wood of the door. Patsys hands were shaking.

They made quite the pair, Patsy snorted as one of Helens crap musicals swished through her head.

People will say we're in love.

"Well done, you did a great job." Wheezed Delia, smiling weakly as she offered praise Patsy didn't want. Patsy gave a sort of halfhearted croak in reply, her head ached, a white hot blistering stab of pain flickered behind her eyes and her bones seemed hollow with tiredness. She wanted to go back to sleep, the short walk had taken her strength from her and she felt weak. Angry too.

The anger was an old fall back. Habit.

Patsy sucked on her tongue as she pushed herself back up. From the corner of her eye she saw Delia straighten in readiness should she fall and for some reason the movement irritated her. Patsy was not a child, she didn't need minding and she wished Delia would step away.

Just a moment to fall apart unobserved.

Beside the toilet was a sink and above that a cabinet with mirrors on the doors. Patsy let her sweat covered fingers curl slickly around the edge of the porcelain as she dragged herself forward a few inches at a time to see what she looked like. Had to know.

It was bad.

She felt her breath fall out of her mouth in a hiss of fresh rage. Her face looked awful; red and green and blue all mixed up like a schizophrenics art pallet, her jaw stood out in heavy relief, swollen and waxy skinned. Her eyes were puffy and yellow ringed, her nose was crusted in God only knew what and was indeed trickling black tarry blood. Her throat was black. Across her forehead were Delias stitches; dark squiggles of thread that resembled ants marching. Flies on a corpse.

Patsy would find Dyer when she got out of here. She would find him somewhere secluded and she'd return the favour. She would-

"I tried to clean you as best I could.' Delia interrupted Patsys thoughts again sounding embarrassed from a few feet away. 'You jerked around too much and I didn't want to hurt you. I thought we could sort it out when you woke up."

Patsy stared at Delia in the mirrors reflection. In the light of the bathroom Patsy saw the bags under her eyes more clearly, the pale tinge to her skin. Saw too the poke of a collar bone at the edge of the womans t shirt collar, the powerful curve of her legs.

Patsy should not have come here. Should not have imposed.

"I'm sorry you had to do any of this... I'll go away soon; I promise." Patsy felt a wave of lethargy, so strong she had to close her eyes, wash over her as Delia tutted disapprovingly.

"You'll go when you're a long way better than this Pats. Come on; we'll get you cleaned up and then you can go back to sleep. You're already doing too much really."

"I'm fine.' Patsy said gruffly, falling back to the toilet seat with a clink of porcelain and hoping the move seemed out of frustration rather than exhaustion. Her foot was twitching like crazy. Sweat clogged her neck and she had to hope it didn't start dripping down her face. She felt sick. Annoyance was chewing at her; all her mistakes drawn out across her face and she'd achieved nothing from any of them.

She wished she was alone because in this frame of mind she'd likely lash out. Was already feeling sparks of bubbling anger in her gut. It wasn't Delias fault by any means but that didn't matter. She couldn't explain why but Delias kindness made her feel wretched and terse. She didn't know what to do with it; wished it would go away until she could summon the energy to work out what to say. 'I could do with a second on my own though Delia."

Delia stopped short, hesitating slightly, biting her lip as she stared down at Patsy.

"I don't think that's a good idea Pats. You've just woken up, if you fall..." Doubt clung to the words on the woman's tongue, reluctant to be thrown into the abyss that was Patsys ire.

"I'm not a child." Patsy said indignantly, flaring up at Delias show of concern immediately, irrationally piqued at it.

Delia watched Patsy for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly before she took a deep breath in that made her chest expand in an all too interesting way. Patsy chose to ignore it for the moment.

"No you're not.' Delia agreed with a sardonic nod of her head. 'You're a fully grown woman who's probably got a concussion at the least Patsy. At the very least I should say. If you fall now you could bang your head and then you will have to go to the hospital. I'm not a doctor or a CT scanner, all I can do is keep watch so you don't die and if it's all the same to you I'd ask you to change the tone slightly.' Delia let out the breath she'd been holding and her shoulders slumped slightly as she tried for a friendly half smile. 'I'm not your enemy Pats."

"I didn't- That's not what I meant." Patsy said stallingly, her skin prickling with embarrassment and irritation. She did not want this womans help. She did not want to depend on someone when so much depended on her. She needed to get out of here, the walls were closing in on her.

"Come on,' Delia had already wrapped a cajoling hand around Patsys waist and lifted her just enough to edge the lid of the seat up. 'I'll turn around and then we'll get you washed."

Patsy couldn't think of much to say to this as she felt herself lowered down again and tried not to snarl as Delia let her go and turned to face the wall as though something very interesting was waiting there. It was maddening.

Patsy had a brief vision of sitting here all damn day until Delia couldn't find her walls interesting and refusing to move. Stubborn streaks were a bastard to shake off.

When Delia had been stood for a few minutes she let out a small fake cough, the non verbal prompt made Patsy stick out her tongue at her back but it did make her move at least. Patsy went to the toilet given the total lack of alternatives at her disposal but managed to get herself back up to standing by the time Delia was turning round to look at her.

Which she tried not to feel too cocky about.

The plug was harder to manipulate in clumsy, exhausted fingers but once in it was short work to turn on the tap, the gentle splash of water hitting the basin gave the rather icy air a lovely falsetto of cheerfulness. Patsy wondered if she should whistle.

"What are you doing now?" Delia asked tersely from the wall, her arms were folded loosely across her chest as she surveyed Patsy. Her face seemed to scream 'I've seen every version of patient shenanigans'. Patsy wanted to stick her tongue out again.

"Washing." Patsy grunted, splashing her hands in the water. It stung and she had to admit defeat quickly, splashing less exuberantly, as tiny cracks from sand dried fingers flared up and seemed to swell the flesh.

"Washing what exactly?" Delia asked again, her lips pursing as she frowned at her uncomplying patient in undisguised exasperation.

"Face,' Patsy replied vaguely as she cupped a few inches of turgid water into a scooped hand and patted it fruitlessly against her face. She'd need a shovel to shift all this blood. 'Do you have a flannel or something? I feel revolting." Patsy directed this a little cautiously to Delia who'd taken a step further to her.

"Ahh,' Delias eyes flooded with understanding and she quickly tugged what looked like a fresh hand towel from a small pile on the shelf above the toilet cistern. 'I had a think about this while you were sleeping. I thought if I brought up one of the chairs from downstairs we could use the shower to-"

"We?" Patsy interrupted, a hot flush of embarrassment running down her neck as she imagined being slung into a seat. Not. Going. To. Happen. 'We won't be doing anything. I'm not an invalid."

"Technically you are,' Delia disagreed sweetly, 'but I take your point. None the less you need help Patsy and I'm-"

"Helpful but unnecessary." Patsys teeth clenched and it wasn't due to pain now. Where was Delias anger from a few days ago? Patsy had been screwing Jessie hadn't she? Surely Delia couldn't be such a saint?

"Patsy,' Delia seemed to be trying to reign in her temper but Patsy was a master at challenging people's patience when she wanted to. Patsy caught Delias gaze squarely and felt only a shiver of confusion when Delia didn't look away. The connection was rather surprising; Delia looked as though she understood far too much as she stared at Patsy through the lens of the mirror and Patsy couldn't help but hate her for it.

The flannel was dropped onto the side of the bath.

"I'll be outside. Let me know if you can't do it yourself." Delia spoke softly, limping to the door and closing it just as quietly. Patsy was left to simmer in solitude and bewilderment.

Well fuck!

Patsy sank down onto the toilet again, her arms burning as they folded awkwardly to to switch off the taps as embarrassment and anger drained away. Replaced themselves with shame.

Delia had only been trying to help, what the hell was the matter with Patsy? Couldn't she just play nice with the only person she'd sought help from?

Patsy sighed and lent back. Her head ached, her body was weary and she was so damn tired. So so tired of everything. Everything was all messed up and squiggled around and she didn't know what to do. It was frightening, she had always tried to know what to do, prided herself for it and now... Unbidden, but always there, rotting in the back of her head arose the old questions.

What is the wages of sin?

Patsys skin prickled with fear; electric and all consuming. Abraham. She'd been avoiding it since the letter, since the day she'd been in court when they'd sent him away really. He was supposed to be gone forever. She was never supposed to be afraid of him again. That's what she'd been told over and over again. But she'd always known that wasn't true really. She'd grown up knowing she was marked, knowing he'd find her somehow, someday and now here they were; Val was dead and Patsy hadn't saved her. She'd lost someone else, she'd been too slow, too weak and already people were dying again. Patsy had never been able to walk away from the wages of sin and Abraham, Abraham could read your mind. How much did he already know? What should she do? What about Dyer?

Patsy squeezed her eyes closed, a vice seeming to clench around her heart, constricting the vessels, every breath a stolen prize she didn't deserve.

There were so many people she'd swap with if she could. Chastity would have been all grown up now if she'd lived, small and mousy like their mother, probably would have popped out a few kids and then there were all those other children from the commune who'd burned. The old women. Her mother. All Patsy had done was jump out the damn window, she hadn't suffered like everyone else. For such a long time Patsy had almost wished she'd stayed. Dying was easier than living like this.

Knowing what was going to happen anyway.

Of course, things couldn't be that bleak Patsy told herself with a hopeless kind of optimism that didn't suit her. Patsy was an adult now, she'd spent years honing her ability to read criminals, tried to save more than she lost and she was stronger. She could stop Abraham couldn't she? Couldn't she?

Fuck!

The happy bathroom with its chirpy decor and sandy beach theme grated on her nerves. It was too perfect in here. She didn't want perfect. She wanted to sit in a dark room and brood.

She could at least wash herself while she was here though. The water was still sloshing wetly against the sink and Patsy forced herself to sit up straighter. It was hard, she was so damn tired. Probably shouldn't have asked Delia to leave really but... Patsy didn't want to seem weak. She'd done that for too long growing up to do it now.

Even so... Gripping the towel was so much more difficult than she could have imagined. Her fingers were stiff and unresponsive and the fabric seemed cartoonishly heavy once she'd submerged it in the tepid water. Her face seemed too numb as the water hit her face. The sting was just a daydream. Far off and painful in the abstract.

Patsy was so insufferably tired. The towel slipped from her hands and she didn't reach for it again. What was the point?

She wondered if Val had known she was going to die when they killed her. Wondered if Vals face had hurt this much when they beat her to death. Chummy said Val had fought though. Chastity had fought when she'd been dying. Fighting never seemed to be enough maybe that was why Patsys mother never bothered.

Patsy could see them all, the faces of the ones she'd failed stretching out in front of her and her eyes seemed to swell as she fought tears. Her stomach groaned and twisted. Her shoulders were taught with worry as she rocked, her hands rose to press against her eyes trying to block out the dead who never left her. The guilt. So much guilt.

She had to be better than this and she wasn't. She was so fucking alone right now!

Or perhaps not.

Delia had come back in, maybe she'd been prompted by the drop of the towel on the floor or maybe she'd just counted to a hundred in her head. Patsy didn't bother to ask. Just looked up dully, unable to muster energy for a witticism. Delia didn't say anything either as she crossed the room and bent to kneel beside Patsy. She'd brought clothes, clean ones and she deposited them beside Patsy for afterwards her intent clear.

A hand snaked out and gripped Patsys wrist. Delia had a lovely smile Patsy thought fleetingly as it flashed up at her. The sort of smile the fancy photographers avoided because it was too honest.

Patsy felt her chin wobble dangerously as Delia picked up the small hand towel from its sodden pile on the floor and dipped it in the water before levelling a sad sort of half smile towards her. Patiently waiting for permission even now.

"Sit up straight Patsy, let me help you." Delia asked into the silence. It wasn't an order and Patsy was glad of that. Delia seemed content to wait as long as she needed and because of this Patsy didn't need to wait. To both of their relief Patsy managed to unbend her will for them. Just a little.

She sat up, letting her arms fall to her sides. Defeated and saved.

Delia wisely chose not to say anything else, maybe sensing that it would end in disaster if she did and merely nodded as though Patsy was a pet who'd done a good trick as she reached to pull each of Patsys arms in turn out towards her. She was shockingly gentle as she washed blood and sand and dirt from the surface of Patsys wrists, her palms, the turns of her elbows. Delia travelled every inch with careful precision, her fingers racing the bluish trail of veins with all the care and diligence of a saint. And it felt amazing.

It was almost hypnotic.

Patsy wanted to fall asleep. Her eyes were so heavy and Delias touch was so much of a comfort it wouldn't take all that much for her to drift away. It seemed that although Patsy might not know what to do about any of this that didn't much matter at the minute. Delia had taken control and Patsy felt foreignly at ease with it. Strangely so really. She wouldn't have allowed Trixie or Helen to do this. Wouldn't have wanted to see their horror or their accusations.

Perhaps, perhaps this could be enough for now?

Patsy was still in her bra and pants ten minutes later. The air was cool in the bathroom even though a golden lance of light was springing through the window and as the water dried on her skin it went from hot to lukewarm almost immediately. Against her best will Patsy began to shiver, the ice in her chest still holding her frozen as Delia worked the towel across her throat, her chin, nose, cheeks, ears. So gentle it felt like wind. Her hands nabbing spare droplets as she went, trying to stop the spread of the cold.

"You had a phone call yesterday." Delia said after a while. Her voice was low, her eyes on Patsys forehead as she manoeuvred the stitches. Patsy let her eyes open lazily.

She couldn't be sure but she fancied that Delia looked pleased with herself. Was it possible that she really saw this in any way a victory? The idea was a strange one but Delia seemed to be in her element right now.

"You answered it?" Patsy supposed without heat. She'd have probably done the same if she was in the same situation. Patsy could have a weeping family desperate to hear from her for all Delia knew.

"I did." Delia replied, her cheeks pinking with a faint blush. Patsy had to stop her hands from twitching. She wanted to touch the rising blood. Delia was just so warm.

"Anyone interesting?" Patsy asked, her eyes fluttering shut again as Delia moved to start at her back.

"A girl, Fern I think she said her name was, asked me to tell you that everything was fine her end and, erm, had you got anywhere with glasses I think she called her. Oh, and... Seppie? Well, apparently she's changed her mind about the ducks. She'd settle for a puppy." Delias dimples were more defined as she spoke, her fingers finding an uneven bump on Patsys hip and rubbing at it idly.

Patsy blinked soporiphocally and tried to focus. Her brain was just so foggy right now, the tiredness sucked her in and Delias hands were like a lullaby.

"I need to call her...' Patsy really did. And Chummy. And Trixie and Helen. Probably Ursula too if she even still had a job. Her brain hurt just thinking about it. 'Well. Is that it?' Patsy asked muzzily, 'Fern didn't quiz you? I'm surprised, she's a nosy bugger when she wants to be."

"She did seem a little surprised I answered." Delia said after a brief pause, a hint of humour rolling on her tongue that made Patsy, tired as she was, rouse slightly.

"Nosey, like I said.' Patsy drawled through slack lips, 'I'm not surprised. Did she give you the once over?" Patsy would bet whatever she still had that Ferns interest had been more than impolite. Patsy wondered how long the teenager would wait before she asked Patsy about Delia. She could only hope Fern didn't tell Seppie, cupids were fat babies with wings not five year olds with penchants for pets.

"She asked if I was going to live with you when they moved in." Delia said delicately after a moments hesitation, she sounded like the idea was an unsettling one and there was just a soupçon of accusation there too. Patsy blinked stupidly, she couldn't work out if Delia disapproved of the kids calling her or not but the possibility of judgement was enough to remind her about how cool the air was again. Patsy sat up slightly straighter, pulling away from the welcome warmth Delia gave.

"Ahh, well I hope you let her down gently." Patsy breathed tightly.

Delia seemed to have picked up on the shift in atmosphere and it had finally got her to a place that had run out of patience. She stopped her hands, the flannel flapping with residue water against her palm, sighing she cocked her head as she peered up at Patsy, frowning.

"Patsy... What are you up to?" The accusation was there again. Or maybe, a small but fair voice in Patsys mind supplied, you're being oversensitive. Patsy slumped just a fraction of an inch.

"It's complicated." Patsy huffed, reaching up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes out of the way. Delia pouched out her cheeks, thinking carefully before blowing out the air and nodding. Dimples again.

"Yes. I'm beginning to sense that theme with you." Delia seemed to be laughing at Patsy and Patsy reacted instinctively. She hated being viewed as a joke.

"I'm trying to adopt them, sort of." Patsy wanted Delia to look impressed although she didn't really know why. She shouldn't care if Delia was impressed or not.

"Fern sounds like a middle aged woman." Delia observed mildly, her hands returning to their work, a finger traced a small scar on Patsys middle back like it didn't know what it was.

Belt buckle. It wasn't the only one.

"She's got her reasons for it.' Patsy volunteered darkly. 'There's a little girl too. They've had a shit start and I wanted to help."

"Seppie who wants a dog?"

"Yeah, she's five and she's not getting a dog."

"That's very... Well, it's very altruistic of you." Delia said diplomatically. Patsy wanted to snort but given her facial circumstances only managed a weak sniff.

"Yeah well,' Patsy muttered to her feet, unable to meet Delias eyes. 'Don't be thinking of me running over mountains singing edelweiss or anything."

"Frauline Patsy.' Delia breathed, her eyes twinkling. 'Has a nice ring to it I think."

"I can't sing worth a penny." Patsy said caustically feeling the pendulum she was trapped on swinging back round to anger in self defence to all these feelings she didn't want.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone less nun like in my entire life." Laughed Delia, her twinkling eyes misting in amusement. The laughter was like wind chimes. Parts of Patsy softened while others stiffened. Patsy liked Delias laugh.

"Singing on rooftops with jolly chimney sweeps is also unlikely." Patsy intoned dead pan and Delia laughed again.

"What about jumping into portraits with an American using a terrible cockney accent."

"I only do that sort of thing on special occasions besides, I don't know a dick, van dyke or otherwise." Patsy sniffed stiffly, pointing her gaze elsewhere, hoping Delia couldn't tell how much she was enjoying herself even through the exhaustion.

It shouldn't be this easy with someone surely.

"Well I'll look forward to that." Delia said softly. Patsy didn't reply. She couldn't look at Delia right now, dull concern warred with good sense. Delias hand was stroking her back like it belonged there and it didn't. It couldn't. Patsy didn't need another mistake, another missed phone call or corpse to visit in the morgue.

Val wasn't even cold.

Selfish.

"She seems very fond of you; Fern I mean." Delia went on, unaware of Patsys turmoil.

"Yeah, well, I've known her since she was little.' Patsy said from somewhere a long way away, talking through fog. 'I've done some business with her father on occasion."

Something fragile, a tendril of suspicion coiled. Mick... What did Mick really know...

"Is she important to your case?" Delia pushed on, curiosity leaking out as the woman mistakenly read Patsys silence for interest. Patsys lips tightened at the question; it was hard letting someone in.

"Sorry,' Delia said hurriedly when Patsy didn't reply. 'I shouldn't have asked that should I?"

"They're personal,' Patsy spoke through a suddenly too tight jaw, 'not work related. I'm not that much of a robot to not try to separate the two sometimes."

"I don't think you're a robot." Delia was so soft, so kind. Patsy wished she'd gone to Trixie. She needed someone to argue with; all this soppy understanding was hard to absorb, hard to believe.

"You don't think I'm a nun either." Patsy pointed out glumly. She wasn't a nun.

What are the wages of sin?

"I think you're just you." Delia went on softly and Patsy wanted to cry. Wanted not to hear that undeserved flattery. It was all so confusing.

"I don't know what that means." Patsy admitted, her feet wanted her to move away, to run as far as she could get from this happy bathroom and it's enticing owner but her legs weren't cooperating and Delia was still holding her.

"Oh' Delia splashed the towel in the water and rung it out absentmindedly. 'You try and come across as all tough guy and...' Delia smiled fondly, 'I don't buy it. A tough guy who didn't care probably wouldn't have looked after me and took me home and then not tried to sleep with me like you did when you saw me at that club."

"Damned with faint praise." Patsy said fixing her eyes determinably to the opposite wall.

"I wasn't praising you; just pointing out what I've observed." Delia mumbled, her attention drifting to her hands.

Patsy shivered as the warmth of the water spread to her sides. Hot fingers had found the long faded marks below her ribs and two fingers were tracing them with intensity. Never quite faded enough to disappear, not even with years of Helens lectures about proper skin care routines. Delia would have seen them already of course.

Patsy only half minded it most of the time. The glass from the window from the commune had gauged deep scrapes as she'd smashed through them. They were long parallel lines bisecting her sides and hips, deep enough to be of major interest to the doctors when they'd rushed her in for hyperthermia after swimming in that water butt. She'd had to endure long periods of having the slashes packed out for what felt like months. The nurses had fussed terribly over her for all sorts of reasons back then. The scars had never bothered Patsy too much to hide them though. She'd always viewed them differently to any other marks, her badges of honour in a way, her ticket to freedom however hollow that freedom really was.

Still. Delias fingers traced them around the socket of Patsys hip bone, the pads a smooth caress, following the line across her hip and Patsy felt herself waver on the cusp of self consciousness. Which was absurd; Patsy never cared about what people thought. Never. Up to now... Her resolve cracked as she peeked through her lashes to read Delias face. Bizarrely anxious for her reaction.

It was intent, curious, sad. Beautiful really. Patsy wished she hadn't looked. No one that kind should be this close to her. She'd always been too marked for someone like Delia. And yet the hand at her back still moved. Delia still helped her and Patsy wanted to do something reckless. Wanted to warn Delia off just a bit. Make her keep her distance because distance was all Patsy had to offer.

"You can ask if you want to." Patsy said blandly, removing her gaze and returning to the wall forcibly. Delias hands faltered just for a moment, caught off guard by the invitation, before continuing just a bit slower than before.

Patsy could feel blue eyes on her. Trying to work her out.

"I won't ask you to tell me something you don't want to tell me." Delia echoed Patsys words from earlier and Patsy felt her lips twitch traitorously. Amused despite herself.

Copy cat.

"So you weren't wondering then?" Patsy asked sarcastically, the hand at her back was too reassuring, too kind. She didn't know what to do about any of it.

"A little bit. They look old that's all." Delia answered smoothly, soothing and sweet and Patsy pushed away the feeling of falling. She didn't want it.

"You'd be all agog I imagine. There's a whole exciting story attached." Patsy said bitterly, tasting ash in her mouth. Always burning.

"I'm sure there is.' Delia said with false disinterest, firmly swapping hands and wiping intently at a lump of blood on Patsys other shoulder blade with a corner of towel.

Patsy almost laughed at the brush off. Delia probably thought she couldn't be shocked. Patsy knew she could probably do it in five minutes even without the scar story.

"Jumped out a three story window. If you're interested." Patsy couldn't help but smile predatorially as the hand slowed again.

Delia seemed to be thinking fast but she didn't stop for long. The corner of towel rose to rub at the nape of Patsys neck.

"Stairs were probably too slow for you." Delia said calmly as though they were discussing nothing more unusual than the weather. Patsy felt her lips twitch again. This felt like a competition and she wanted to win. Wanted to shock.

"Not slow so much as on fire really." Patsy said in an equally matter of fact voice, giving up all pretense at disinterest as she turned a little to search Delias face. Delia was biting her bottom lip but still staring pointedly at Patsys neck like it was fascinating.

"Well, I imagine that was probably the right decision then." Delia said eventually, her jaw sticking out and her tone brittle. The towel had stopped moving but Delia wasn't meeting Patsys eye.

Patsy pushed back a flair of recklessness and turned suddenly so that Delia had to reach out and grab her shoulder to stop herself falling over. Their eyes met and Patsy smiled sickly, Delia recoiled like the sight was distasteful and Patsy couldn't help but feel the rejection.

It stung. Made her give up on politeness.

"Didn't get them all that way though." Patsy said with a mirthless smile that seemed to stretch the taught skin across her aching cheeks, choosing to do it because Delia clearly didn't seem to like it. She felt like a skull; every lost souls last joke.

"Patsy." Delia warned calmly but Patsy didn't want calm. She wanted to make Delia understand. Wanted to scare her a little bit.

"Got a few the old fashioned way. Tell me; do you know how hard someone has to hit you to break your ribs Delia?"

"Patsy." Delia said again, a more blunt warning now. Patsy pushed on anyway heedless of the creeping sense she was going too far, her pulse beating in her ears.

"Got this one through a gardening mishap.' Patsy tapped a succession of three dull grey circles just above her knee. 'Someone accidentally threw a pitchfork while I was digging up potatoes and then everyone I knew accidentally left me pinned there for a few hours. Didn't hit an artery though.' Patsy gave a mad sort of laugh as she remembered cloudy confusion, murky memories swimming up from the box she never opened because this, just this, was exactly what always happened. 'That's what made it so funny, hilarious isn't it? I just laughed and laughed all day when they eventually pried me off the thing."

"Stop it." Delia said shrilly, finally breaking her calm mask. She looked angry, barking at Patsy the same way small dogs barked at cars.

Patsy felt her lips shaking as more words begged to tumble out but she restrained them. Delia looked like she wanted to be sick. Patsy had made her point.

Wordlessly Patsy reached forward, her arm brushing Delias who shuddered at the contact, stars lancing her brain and picked up the top that was in a pile on the floor. Delia had sunk back to rest on her bent legs, staring at Patsy, the towel hanging limply in her hand as Patsy struggled to get the clothing over her head. Delia didn't seem as keen to try and help her this time and Patsy couldn't blame her really.

May have gone a little over-board with the sharing really.

When Patsys head was through the opening the fire had banked a little. A lot really. God, she needed to go to sleep.

Delia was still watching her with a wariness that hadn't been there before and Patsy took a savage kind of pleasure in knowing she'd pushed the woman away enough. Patsy didn't need to mess up anyone else's life. If Delia wanted her gone then that was the right thing. Patsy wouldn't take anything from anyone else. But; Patsy felt shame rise again, Delia didn't deserve it. Didn't really deserve Patsys anger or her cruelty and Patsy knew it. The trouble was Patsy couldn't think of another way to deal with this though so here they were.

Staring at each other in a bathroom Patsy shouldn't be in really.

She should have stayed on the beach. Should of-

"I'm going to take you back to bed. You're tired Patsy, you've been through a lot." Delia said eventually, her eyes hard as she got to her feet laboriously. It looked like arduous work and Patsy wasn't even there weighing her down yet.

Patsy lent her head back as far as it would go, until her sore head touched the barest edge of wall and closed her eyes.

Apologise. Say you're sorry. Make it better.

"I didn't mean that.' Patsy said in a much quieter voice, shame and anger and confusion swirled in her guts until she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Wished she was someone else. 'I was just... Joking. Making it up. Sorry." Patsy didn't open her eyes as she spoke. Didn't want to.

Delia seemed to be breathing a little harder as she rose and moved to stand in front of Patsy, her hands inching closer until the heat from her soft palms enclosed Patsys forearms.

"We should get you in bed Pats." Was her only reply and Patsy wanted to cry.

Stupid.

"I'm sorry." Patsy said again feeling her voice crack and Delia looked up with a jerk as though surprised. Their eyes met, fire and ice and Delias lips thinned.

"It's fine." Delia said in a totally not fine kind of voice.

Patsy reached out and touched Delias collar bone, just a wisp of touch but it felt warm. Delia felt warm and Patsy was so cold inside it almost burned if that was even possible.

"No it's not. But I am.' Patsy had to close her eyes again, her hand had slipped, she couldn't stop it shaking and didn't want Delia to know. 'I'm so sorry."

If she said it enough would it change anything? So many dead people who couldn't hear her and she was here alone, whispering to shadows and ghosts. And Delia.

Patsy almost didn't register as Delia lent closer and wrapped her arms around her. A soft pair of lips breathed steadily at her ear and it was unsettlingly sweet. Bizarre. Unnaturally good. Patsy couldn't look but she couldn't pull away either, not even when Delia stood up with Patsy in her arms.

Patsy felt her thoughts spiral into bleak darkness. She was just so tired and Delia was already laying her down on the bed and covering her. Still fractious and angry and Patsy wished again she was different.

"I'm sorry." Patsy repeated, her voice was just a slur now, a tired sigh on the air but Delia must have heard. A single finger trailed over Patsys temple, gentle, kind. Patsy was too tired to retract away from it, too tired to pretend she didn't want it.

"It's okay Cariad. Just go to sleep." Delia said in her ear. Sounded like music.

Patsy closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the angst, the angst! Did I mention I'm a whore for angst writing? No. Well, you heard it here first kid.
> 
> Right, I've an apology to make. I've made an absolute shocking show of writing for two reasons; one, my nephew stayed for a week and he eclipses all other interests really #babysubstitute and two, I've started writing backwards again. *sigh*
> 
> It goes like this; I have a chapter plan and I stick to it because I'm a bigger for tangents. In the past I've ended up writing all the best bits and then not wanting to write the lead ups etc, alas I've two half finished stories that never saw the light of day for this exact reason. Despite this I have somehow written the chapter three down from this (I think it's good if that helps but I was annoyed at myself for doing it.) And then had to begin writing in reverse because... reasons. Well, it tends to drag out the process so I can only apologise again for the wait and hope this still keeps you interested.
> 
> Patsy and Delia are always my OTP although watching the new ctm series I bloody love Val. Fingers crossed they don't kill Phyllis in the next episode, Phyllis is hallowed ground since last series! 
> 
> Please comment, they make all the difference and y'all have a nice day now.
> 
> SB


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's in my roots, it's in my veins, it's in my blood and I'll save every heart I use to heal the pain

Patsy didn't wake up again after the bathroom incident that Sunday. Indeed, she slept for the next two days on and off.

Later on in life, on the rare occasion she allowed herself to brood on this period of time, Patsy would sometimes try to picture or recall some summary of the things she thought of as she lay incumbent and lethargic in Delias spare bed. She never managed to do it. 

She slipped in and out of alertness, her brain so groggy and confused that it became hard to distinguish her dreams from reality; the two concepts seeming to become impossibly tangled up and muddled. It was also hard to fully understand why this should be. Patsys body was hurt and it needed to heal but she'd been hurt before now more than once and she'd always been able to push through. Now, it seemed that the true battle was not physical but mental. Abrahams return, Vals death were triggering the old ways. Her own head became a war zone as logic and sanity fought a child's fears. 

Neither side took prisoners.

It was as though she'd spent all these years carefully building a wall; every brick a testament to some small victory, some positive achievement, the cement was Helen, her work. It blocked away the ghosts, hid them from view, pushed them into a corner and forced them to stay there but nothing she could do would ever vanish them entirely. Now a sledgehammer had struck that wall, bricks and mortar were flying everywhere as she fumbled desperately to rebuild with everything she had left. Her head was a leaking damn full of terror and she was drowning in it.

The memories were terrible.

Sometimes Patsy whispered into the air names; Chastity. Mark. Samuel. Joseph. John. Mother. On and on but no one answered her calls, the ghosts never spoke to her, they just were there and then she would tumble back into living nightmares so vivid she struggled to recall who she was anymore. One moment she was six running along a corridor desperate to hide, nine and longing for that precious lunch box, ten now and Chastity was screaming at her to let her die. Val was ringing her phone, Dyer was punching her. She was Patience and she was Patsy. The same and different and lost. 

She saw her mothers corpse, touched the face which changed into Vals as she did it, they had the same dead hue to the skin, the gaping colourless lips. She felt the heat from Chastitys burning body, the sting of the air as she didn't allow herself the luxury of crying. She felt too the crawling, confusing memories of Abraham stroking her hair in his special rooms as she read to him, tears in her eyes and when she woke from this particular recollection she only stopped herself from ripping the strands in the here and now out from her head in breathless rebellion when she felt warm hands cradle her tightly. Preventing her from hurting herself further. A gentle voice close to her ear mumbled meaningless words of reassurance, telling her she was safe but it wasn't true, she'd not found peace, only a soft place to land and then back into the battle she'd fallen.

Fire and ice.

She was eleven and swimming in six foot of fetid water, the looming oppressive walls of the water butt rose up, impossible to climb, blood oozed out from her torn sides and looking up all she could see was grey smoke and the screaming. Were the dead screaming? She was screaming. Mad. Dying.

On and on and on it went for two days and two nights.

Two days of madness. Patsy lay trapped in her head, lost and afraid, the madness was a fire burning through everything she had, leaving smoke and pain behind in its wake but also... steel. Eventually Patsy began to cling to the lucid moments like a shipwrecked mariner grasping at any rock before another wave sucked her back down to drown afresh. Only she found that she did not drown as often now, her grip tightening on the hard knot of reality.

She would not drown. She would not burn. She was Patsy and this would not be her end.

Delia became her marker of real time passing. The singularly real thing in a world of smoke and mirrors. She visited before going to work. She'd force Patsy to eat things Patsy couldn't taste through the taste of burning. She'd hold Patsys hands and tell her she'd come back soon and Patsy would nod as if she believed it and fall back to sleep. Next thing she knew Delia would be back, more food, more talking; checking Patsys pulse, her temperature, asking if she was thirsty.

On Wednesday Patsy felt a shift in her mind. The turning of the tide. The screaming in her head began to quieten, tired of its own noise and other thoughts could return.

When Delia came to Patsy on Wednesday evening, face drawn and worried, Patsy was awake. Sensical if still exhausted and the look of relief when Patsy greeted her by name was terrible to behold. Patsy felt like she'd dirtied herself by being so lost in front of someone so wholly good and it had made her want to withdraw again. Perhaps Delia had known because she'd been just as tentative; scared to tred too heavily. The show of consideration allowed Patsy, much as before, to trust in the short term and she'd complied when Delia carried her to the bathroom again and washed her in the shower. 

Delia gave Patsy clothes too small for her but better than nothing. Patsy kept expecting Delia to ask more questions, to offer some kind of judgement about what had happened but it didn't come. Instead, and to Patsys mild surprise, Delia spoke about other things; the weather, children in her class, movies, Wales. They ate soup together, Delia sat on the empty side of the bed and stopped talking only to reach and help Patsy hold her spoon. Patsys hands were still shaking just too much to eat quickly. Delia didn't seem to mind and when Patsy pushed the empty cup away from her, warmer than she'd felt in days, Delia had placed it on the side and continued to talk; holding Patsys hand like she thought she could tether Patsy to her if she did it.

Patsy couldn't find the right words to explain her sense of freedom at reaching some kind of middle ground in the frenzy of memories. It felt like she'd been sick with some withering disease and the fever had finally broken somehow.

And Delia held her hand for a very long time. Patsy, trying hard not to think, didn't let go.

\--

By Thursday Patsy felt her energy begin to ebb back. Hitherto disregarded emotions were given a space to poke their heads over the parapets and offer their contributions. Frustration, anger, shame and boredom all had their place.

Frustration was inevitable she consoled herself and, in the privacy of her head at least, she could have a decent whine because... Well, it was just so bloody unfair!

It had all been going so well hadn't it. She'd let Val go, she'd done the right thing, she'd made steps to help Fern and Seppie, she'd got somewhere in her career. She was solvent and she'd been on a path to somewhere new and exciting. Now? Was there even a future anymore? Was she just killing time until the inevitable happened?

Patsy didn't want to believe it and the idea that living for this long, making every effort to move forward, could be cut short by a man who should never have been able to find her again enraged her. Eclipsed the very real strands of fear. Because, of course, there was still fear.

She felt no qualms about admitting that she was still afraid of Abraham. Abraham warranted a healthy amount of respect and fear. The idea of him in any case but, Patsy told herself over and over again, Abraham was just a man. Dyer was just a man. Flesh and bone. Men could be dealt with and Patsy was a force to be reckoned with in her own right now. She was not a malnourished child now, too scared of shadows now, she was nearing thirty now with enough repressed anger in her to punch through doors if pressed. She just had to get her head together; think, plan, understand.

And she had time to plan, restrained to this bed as she was by her own body at present. So, Patsy planned and pondered, the lonely hours flying away from her like so many grains of sand in high wind.

Abraham...

Abraham was unpredictable. Always had been. Unpredictable and yet... not at all. A sadist who enjoyed power trips over weaker individuals. He preyed on those he could control, scare or intimidate and was ruthless with the way he discarded his 'Toys.' Dyer was nothing to a man like Abraham; just a blunt instrument. The links to the police would be helpful to Abraham though if he was moving stock into the area and no doubt the connection would appeal to his habit of feeling superior. How many others he'd got on side though, that was the main concern.

Patsy trawled through each of her colleagues one by one in her head, painting their features on her inner eye, considering character and mitigating factors; kids were always good blackmail material, no one said people had to work because they wanted to in a case like this. Meanwhile, the sun arched from east to west and Patsy grew increasingly irritable as she drew only blanks. Ursula did not strike Patsy as a natural bed fellow for Abraham, she was too sensible, to austere and she had no family or husband that Patsy knew of but, then again, Abraham was an expert at being convincing when he wanted to be wasn't he? Chummy, at least to Patsy, was above all reproach; Patsy could not see the Toff agreeing to anything that did not seem wholly legal and above board. Patsy could rely on Chummy. The rest of the team though?

Patsy gnashed her teeth in frustration.

It was hard to work around grey patches she didn't have facts for but not impossible; she would do it if she had to. No going to the police though.

He's got people in the hospitals. That's what Dyer had said too.

Who? Patsy doubted she'd be able to plan for this eventuality besides avoiding any more injuries. There was no other obvious way to tell who was on Abrahams side but that did not necessarily create any more difficulties for her. Patsy had been a lone wolf for a long time; avoiding other peoples help was second nature by now.

Dyers link to Mick was another concern. If Abraham wanted the old junkies out then Mick was walking around with a rather big target on his head. Patsy might be inclined to be worried if she didn't know Mick as well as she did. Mick was one of the few that always seemed to have nine lives; he'd tattled on, pissed off and double crossed nearly every criminal he'd ever come into contact with but still he survived. Always because he was useful. He knew everyone. Had the dirt and the currency on everything that happened; it was why Patsy had netted him early on in her career. It was also probably why he wasn't dead yet. Why Dyer was leaning on him to deal out the legal highs. Mick knew most of the prossies, the best brothels and the factories who would turn a blind eye to shady dealings.

And this was enough to send Patsy along a new tangent. There was the matter of what was being shipped into Poplar. Drugs was a certainty, a morgue full of OD'd junkies was evidence enough for that but this was more than street drugs, this was organised. Abraham was involved in this somehow; he'd most likely made friends in prison. People like Abraham were good at making friends like that. Albanian maffia, it was probably a union made in hell. 

And Ursula said the Albanians didn't just handle drugs; there were humans involved in this. Money. Sex and organs and free labour all packaged up in useless flesh. Patsy stared at the ceiling mutely thinking about this; Abraham would enjoy running that sort of thing. He liked powerless people. He'd be involved.

And he'd brought the gang to Poplar.

There could only be one reason why he'd done that. Well, two, she amended silently, she being the first and foremost but secondly was the fact that that many people needed to be held somewhere. Somewhere that could accessed quietly, a place that could be used as holding pen and operating theatre. They'd need to break the slave workers in and train the prostitutes before shipping them around the country. Something like that would need to be outside of main Poplar, something rarely passed by and big enough to keep the poor souls out of sight.

Patsy could think of only one place that fit that criteria in the surrounding area and Abraham would know it too of course. 

The commune had been closed off and left condemned ever since the mass murder. Abraham had owned the land outright though; Patsy had never learned how he'd come across the wealth to make such a purchase and couldn't remember the subject arising from the court case although it must have done. Still. She recalled how he had boasted of his families money and privilege, exulted his born position as a starting place for Gods work, it wasn't really that much of a stretch that he could gain access to the old place again. He'd managed to evade parole officers and other authorities and he had that streak of the gambler in him. Risks were what made life fun, especially if the results landed on someone else.

People didn't tend to go up that way near the commune, its eerie chain link fence hooping around its sprawling perimeter and the dank depressing air of the old building coupled with its boarded up windows and blackened outer shell kept nosy explorers out. It looked like it might cave in at any moment and some of the older ladies sometimes grumbled that it should be pulled down and replaced with something more cheerful.

Patsy could only ever see it as a massive graveyard and had studiously avoided going near the place for years. Hell, everyone did really. What reason would you poke about in an old wreck like that?

Unless, of course, you were a nosy nun who'd heard people were seen up there. Had that been it? As simple as the wrong place at the wrong time and then what? What would Winnifred do if she saw something untoward? Would she be brave and investigate? Would she confront her would be adversaries? Or would she seek a kindly police officer for aid and find Dyer instead; waiting for her.

Patsy knew one thing, she had to trust someone at work. Had to know if anyone had checked to see if Winnifred had been anywhere near the station.

And if she had? How had Patsy missed that? How could any of them have missed that? Frustration railed at her, frustration at herself, at her lack of insight at such a high cost. 

The boredom was a secondary factor of her situation; low grade at the moment as she applied her brain to police work but still heavily oppressing in the background. She despised inaction, disliked lounging when there was work to do and all she could do was stare at the beige walls and off white ceiling mutely until Delia reappeared to break up the day.

Indeed, when Delia did return at half four that day Patsy, seeking an escape from her rumination, practically begged to be taken downstairs. Taken aback and worried about Patsy exhausting herself Delia had offered a few protests before capitulating.

Patsy wasn't quite strong enough to get about on her own yet but she took heart in the fact that she didn't need to lean so heavily on Delia this time round as they edged one foot at a time down the stairs.

The living room seemed very large and warm when Delia finally deposited Patsy onto the sofa some twenty minutes later and the trip had taken most of Patsys strength but she clung to the moment as Delia made her lay lengthways on the sofa and fussed with a tartan blanket and pillow. Patsy allowed Delia all the fussing time she wanted in light of her help; Patsy didn't even much mind it in any case and she couldn't help but watch carefully as Delia, once completely satisfied Patsy was hemmed in with enough fabric to sink a ship, drifted into a small arm chair nearby.

Patsy noted with the now familiar sweep of guilt that Delia had dark bags under her eyes, her hair was disheveled and her skin had an unhealthy grey pallor to it. Patsy privately thought that Delia probably needed someone to tuck her in on the sofa almost as much as Patsy did. She looked as exhausted as Patsy felt.

It was with this rather morose thought that Patsy abruptly succumbed to the need to sleep; the sensation was so quick she barely registered just how tired she was before the feeling struck and she was lost. Her dreams were of nothing but white noise and the sound of the sea. No ghosts troubled her and when she awoke a few hours later she felt more invigorated than she had in days. Years even.

The evening had truly rolled in now; the curtains were pulled closed and hung to the floor in long serpentine heaps. Delia had put on the television at some point but it played on mute with the pretty faces of news readers flashing up from the screen. The room was lit from one overlarge lamp near Patsys feet and had taken on a soft golden glow that seemed to fill the corners with warmth. It screamed 'home' in a way Patsys own little house had never fully been able to achieve.

Then again, it could be more due to the company than anything else.

Delia was still sat in her single arm chair, cross legged and casual looking in shorts and a t-shirt, a style Patsy was coming to recognise as Delias signature home aesthetic. Delia had pulled the glass coffee table in front of her. It was pretty full; in one corner there was an unmistakable stack of childrens work books waiting to be marked with an open pencil case and stack of notepads beside them, aligned neatly in a way that made the more OCD elements of Patsys psyche purr longingly and relax. The sight brought back too many memories of Helen; Patsy had grown to love watching her mother faff with work stuff. It was hard not to feel a reflection of affection in the small act of reminiscence. 

Delia was focused on the screen of her laptop which was open but its contents hidden from Patsys view. Delias face was painted a chilly blue from the electric light and she was frowning slightly as she seemed to be reading something; the skin between her eyebrows was puckered and her eyes swept left to right very quickly.

Patsy watched with curiosity for a few minutes as Delia periodically shifted the mouse and clicked onto something else; her attention rapt and her features oddly aligned. She looked like she wanted to be sick as her frown grew more deeply with every passing second.

Patsy tried to work the scene out as Delia continued her silent reading unaware of her silent audience. Meanwhile, Patsy tried to label what she was seeing. Delia looked... Pensive. Angry? None of those things suited Delia, that much was certain and beneath it all Patsy detected a terrible loneliness there, she recognised it easily, knew it all too well herself and it was so wrong to be found here. Delia didn't deserve to feel that. 

Patsy felt a great swelling of protectiveness towards this woman. It was wrong and she didn't want to see it. Wanted to fix it but didn't know how.

"You look serious, what are you reading?" 

Delia jumped, her hand veering off guiltily to grasp the edge of the laptop screen despite Patsys mild tone and Patsy wondered with a smirk if the good lady had been caught reading something rude. The idea was so ludicrous Patsys cheeks twitched traitorously.

"You're awake, sorry I didn't- What are you smiling about? Delia spoke in a rush but she slowed as she squinted over towards Patsys face half hidden by her pillow. Patsy let out a fake cough and struck out for a different vein of thought. Probably best not to say anything along the lines she was thinking.

Keep it Disney Mount.

"Nothing, just, the books.' Patsys eyes fell on the text books and felt her smile soften into a genuine show of warmth. She really had enjoyed the ritual of Helen absorbing herself in work as a teenager; it had been the sort of thing Patsy had only seen in films before that. It had meant something. 'My mums a teacher, it's nice that's all."

"Your mum?" Delia looked startled as though the concept was totally foreign and Patsy frowned as she realised her slip.

"Adopted." Patsy qualified smoothly, her hands twitching automatically from beneath the covers out of sight. She didn't want to go back into the past tonight. 

"Ahh I see...' Delia said delicately, she looked like the obvious questions were dying to escape from her but, to Patsys continuing surprise, she didn't ask them. Letting Patsy have her privacy. 'Anyone I might know?"

"Is that likely?" Patsy asked with a raised eyebrow. Delia wasn't a local after all.

"Well, I don't know, maybe?" Delia pressed, clearly warming to the conversation and Patsy watched the welshwoman hawkishly for a moment before giving in. It wasn't as though Delia didn't deserve to know a few facts after all.

"She works at St Matthews; Helen Shipman. She's pretty high up in the admin these days." That was an understatement, Patsy fought the urge to preen a bit. Helen was a special, she worked damn hard and she'd earned her place. 

Delia, it seemed, thought so too because her eyes widened and she sat a little straighter.

"Helen Shipman... The Helen Shipman? I've read her paper on child development, it was fascinating. I- Well I had no idea she had a daughter." Delia was looking at Patsy with total intrigue and Patsy smiled wanly.

"She's a private woman." Very private actually. They both were.

"She must have been incredible to live with. I'm so jealous, all that knowledge." Delia spoke in an impressed sort of voice and Patsys chest puffed with reflected pride but she tempered it with an eye roll.

"Don't be fooled; I can still beat her at draughts on a good day and she sings like wind through a pipe when she thinks no one can hear her." Those bloody musicals; Patsy hoped Phyllis liked them too because she could happily pass that chore off to the northerner.

Sort of. She did enjoy their time together though.

"Well... I'm very jealous." Delia went on, her dimples flashing and making Patsys thoughts derail slightly. Those dimples were lovely.

"I'll have to tell her I've met a fan; she never believes me when I tell her she's a closet rock star." Understatement again. Patsy had given up trying to tell Helen how good she was. Helen threw off compliments far too easily for Patsys tastes. Like mother like daughter.

"How...' Delia paused, her bottom lip sticking out as she mulled over her question carefully and Patsy waited oddly calm. 'When did she adopt you?"

The burning room. Her mothers corpse. Chastity. Stevens head banging against the floor. Bang, bang, bang.

"What are you marking?' Patsy changed the subject hurriedly, 'I can help if you want?"

Delia sagged at the unsophisticated brush off, disappointment flickering on her face but she didn't stay down for too long as she glanced at the stack of work books. 

"I don't think that's really ethical." Delia ventured cautiously, her head shaking as she spoke so that her dark hair caught the light oddly and reflected gold. Patsy had the strangest urge to run her fingers through it. Would it be as soft as it looked?

"Why?' Patsy asked, feeling slightly ashamed for not being brave enough to answer Delias simple question and wanted to make amends. 'I promise I have basic maths down."

"How about the water table?" Delia asked, dimples flashing again and catching Patsys eye boldly. Blue meeting blue.

"Makes a terrible mess installing it in the living room?" Patsy offered with a yawn and Delia laughed gently. Patsy liked the sound, Delia was the sort of person who deserved to laugh.

"Think I'll do it myself, save time." 

They tumbled into a companionable sort of silence. Patsy noted that Delias eye kept falling back to the laptop as though drawn there and bit back the urge to ask. She wasn't in a position to impose really but, irrationally, she wished Delia would look at her again.

"So... How many coloured pens have you got in there?' Patsy pointed a thumb towards the pencil case lamely. 'Only the really good teachers colour code you know."

Delia blinked at Patsy like she'd started talking gibberish and Patsy fidgeted, embarrassed, waiting for the snap of the womans patience. 

"I'll have you know I own at least four colours and stickers." Delia said eventually, reaching forward with purpose to close the laptop firmly. Patsy watched the movement and felt as though a decision she wasn't privy too had been made somehow.

"Personalised stickers?" Patsy asked quietly and Delias cheek expanded as she poked her tongue against it.

"No, off the peg ones. I only do personalised for special occasions." Her voice dropped dramatically and Patsy, without really knowing why, felt a blush begin in her neck.

"Like end of year tests?" Patsy asked innocently and Delia narrowed her eyes.

"No. Like saving nuns from burning buildings, blind paraplegic puppies, that sort of thing." 

"Do they do a sticker for that?" Patsy asked with a wry grin. And she'd thought she'd been smooth.

"Ahh Pats, they do stickers for almost anything you know." Delias eyes glinted like sin and Patsys throat felt terribly dry. Must be hot in here.

"Well I can see being around you is going to be an education Delia." Patsy said quietly and Delia snorted, her hand reaching to run through her fringe leaving the strands sticking up in disarray and again Patsy had the odd urge to smooth them back down. Her fingers twitched under the blankets again.

"I imagine it is.' Delia said airily, relaxing more into her seat expansively. 'Its certainly been an adventure so far- Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Patsy had jumped at the question, unaware that her face had softened and hastened to school it back into place. Looking at Delia made her feel content. It was weird. But... It was just the after affects of everything; she was all exposed, guts hanging out willy nilly. She didn't really know what she was doing right now and Delia was... interesting.

Patsy needed to get out of here soon. 

"Like I'm amusing you." Delia said suspiciously, an unexpected frisson of self consciousness showing and Patsy had the sudden feeling that she wasn't the only one who wore masks. She'd only seen Delia with Jessie a few times but their interactions had hardly seemed supportive.

Food for thought at least although Patsy couldn't really judge others. Pot and kettle sort of situation really.

Delia was still watching her and Patsy realised she'd not replied yet.

"You're not amusing, well,' Patsy corrected herself, letting her lips twitch, 'not in that way. I just like seeing you so relaxed, I know I've been a nightmare. I'm sorry."

This, at least, seemed to do the trick. Delia ran her finger through her fringe again and shook her head like Patsy had said something foolish.

"Don't be. Honestly, I don't want to hear you tell me that again; I'm glad I can help." Delia meant it to. She really did. Patsy could read the good intention in every honest to God line of the woman's face and felt a wave of fatigue hit her again. Delias skin was still grey and that was Patsys fault. All of it. Every single damn inch.

"You look tired Delia." Patsy blurted out as she stared across the room, her throat still dry and Delia stiffened slightly. Her smile faded and she shifted in her seat, picked at a non existent thread on the arm of the chair.

"I suppose we're none of us our best after a long day." Delia muttered to the chair and Patsy realised her mistake a phrase too late.

"I didn't mean that;' She hastened to fix it, her words falling out hurriedly to fill the suddenly opening void between them, 'you're beautiful, I just meant... I don't know; you look like you need some sleep, I feel responsible for it."

"Probably not the usual sort of woman you keep company with." Delia said eventually with a terrible casualness, still picking at invisible threads and it was Patsys turn to look away. It was true in a sense and then again totally wrong.

"No. You're far better." Patsy mumbled and Delias head twisted to search Patsy sharply.

"You know I never really know if you're laughing at me or not." Delia said after a long pause, confusion flashing and Patsy bit her lip wishing she was someone better.

"Odd; that's actually my Native American spirit name. I'm not though, just so you know, I'm just... Spiky in general. I wouldn't want you to take it personally." 

Delia still watched her, Patsy could feel the curious eyes on her forehead and gave up on her pride as she looked up to meet the gaze head on. It was a bit like falling but softer and far too easy a thing to do really. Delia had lovely eyes.

"I'll admit I do feel a bit tired. It's been a busy week." Delia said, her cheeks pinking mysteriously.

"So take a break?' Patsy suggested boldly in a spur of the moment decision, tapping the end of the sofa enticingly with her foot making the blankets bounce and come untucked. 'Sit with me? Come on, I won't bite."

"You need to rest." Delia frowned reprovingly and Patsy rolled her eyes. Ever the nurse miss Busby.

"I can rest just fine sitting up, come on, I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I've been on my own all day." Patsy said waggling her eyebrows as she forced her legs into a bendier angle. Her ribs twinged horribly but they were not the captain of this vessel, Patsy was and she wanted to be a bit closer to Delia dammit.

"You're ridiculous" was all Delia said in response, not moving and Patsy stifled a grumble as she swung her feet to the floor so that the spare seat was totally free and Delia ready.

"Why, scared you won't be able to control yourself?" Patsy taunted tongue in mouth and saw with interest that Delias eyes gleamed competitively.

"No. My mam always said I shouldn't sit next to strangers."

"You've seen me naked at least three times this week. We're past strangers Delia. Come on, sit with me. Please?" Patsy didn't really know why she was pushing so hard. She should let it go. Should leave it. But...

Delia was moving, coming to sit beside Patsy cautiously, sinking down beside Patsys curled knees as though afraid someone was going to shout at her.

They both paused as they became accustomed to the odd domesticity of it all. Patsy couldn't remember the last time she'd done something like this with a woman besides Trixie and Helen. Somehow this didn't feel like that.

It felt rather marvellous as it went.

"Your feet are going to get cold." Delia observed after a minutes silence and Patsy looked down at her exposed toes on the floor without much interest.

"Cold feet warm heart. Don't worry about me, I'm a tough old bird underneath it you know." 

"Don't be silly, here.' Delia reached down and plucked the closest foot into her lap insistently before tucking the blanket around it, 'that'll do the trick."

"Basic nursing?" Patsy asked breezily, trying to cover the slight waver as Delias hand naturally seemed to fall on top of the blanket like it was normal, like they did this all the time.

"Basic survival in rural Wales actually.' Delia said smoothly, 'when I was little my socks were so thick I reckon it gave me a few inches in height."

"Any advantage I suppose- hey!" 

Delia had just squeezed Patsys ankle in retaliation and Patsy stared shocked as Delia stuck out her tongue.

"I'm travel sized okay. People pay money to be this petite I'll have you know. So tell me, what's it like being so tall? I imagine the altitude can be hard at times."

"The odd nosebleed isn't unknown but at least I can reach the top shelf in the supermarkets." Patsy said rather smugly and Delia narrowed her eyes.

"I suppose you are gifted. In strong winds you won't blow away at least." Delia observed dryly as she picked Patsys remaining foot up and inspected it between thumb and forefinger before placing that too on her lap. Patsy wasn't fooled.

"Anything to get my foot in your lap eh." Patsy said with an irrepressible leer. 

"You're ridiculous." Delia said again but she smiled as she said it and Patsy felt sure she hadn't offended. 

The conversation went on from there. It all felt far too natural and though there were some areas neither breached; Patsy didn't ask about Jessie and Delia didn't foray back into childhood, it didn't hamper them too much. Talking to Delia was far too easy. 

Without really thinking about it Patsy found herself talking about work. Delia seemed equally appalled and impressed when Patsy recounted the notorious story of Fred Buckle and the Cabbage scandal of 07. Delia, herself, was just as engaging and she offered a few of her own anecdotes that had Patsy laughing out loud.

-"We did the American constitution before Christmas. I'll have you know our papier-mâché Statue of Liberty was incredible. The girls gave her red lips and then the arm fell off in the family assembly. Nearly knocked out Matthew Simmons, I'm afraid the kids got too excited with the newspaper."

"Did you laugh?"

"Please. I'm a professional; cold compress and a strengthening word of comfort did the trick. Admittedly the attempt at the American pledge near the end was harder, Matthew was still staggering around looking for sympathy and no one knew the damn thing very well. It was only Sister Winnifred singing the anthem like Lady gaga behind the piano that saved us. I'm dreading doing Russia next year."

Just like that. It was far too easy. Too natural and Patsy ignored the uneasy squirm in her chest that told her she should run away. Delia was like a magnet and besides, she had Patsys feet in her hands.

The hours rolled away from them and Patsy didn't care when she finally returned to bed that the clock said it was well past midnight.

One of Helens crap musical lyrics rang through her head again and she grinned at the ceiling listening to Delia moving around in her own room down the hall.

Some enchanted evening indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww isn't it lovely? Are we all enjoying the fluff? Isn't all just so cute. I'd advise you to enjoy it while you can, its going to get so bloody. Mwahaha 
> 
> Just as a quick thing, I've been totally unable to log in the last few days. Wouldn't accept my password. Has anyone else had problems or is this just me. If you've commented without reply I'll get on it, just not been able to get in man.
> 
> Also; I'm now on that there tumblr. Same name. Just trying to work out how you steer the thing. #technotard
> 
> Hope we're all enjoying the snow in merry old Britain. Remember to keep warm or, if you can't, find yourself a nice woman to do it for you :) 
> 
> SB


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if you can't get what you love,  
> you learn to love the things you've got.  
> If you can't be what you want  
> You learn to be the things you're not.  
> If you can't get what you need  
> You learn to need the things that stop you dreaming.
> 
> Passenger. Things that stop you dreaming.

Patsy woke up on Friday morning very suddenly, her body jerking awake almost violently as she lay in the centre of her familiar and yet unfamiliar bed. She knew immediately that it was still early from the faint golden rays peaking just below the crest of the trees outside the bedroom window. The same bird from her first morning pecked at the gnarled wood of the branch close to the glass hopefully, its warm feathers puffing up and flexing to show each individual shade of plumage.

Patsy, despite the rude awakening, felt oddly at peace as she lay still, her eyes following the birds pecking movement as the shadows dimmed and faded. Her mind was strangely cool, the bottom of a deep pool on a hot day. Deceptively sharp in focus but dangerous to dive in to. She didn't bother to make a noise, the house felt peaceful, the day too calm to be disturbed yet.

When Delias alarm clock, with its cheerful radio call and attached groan, trickled through the hallway half an hour later Patsy unfolded just a little to listen for the steady patter of Delias feet against the floor. She hadn't yet been privy to Delia in the morning, not being up to all that much observation of late, and struggled to bite down natural curiosity. What would Delia look like when she just woke up?

It occurred to Patsy as she sat up with the morning rays of sunlight staining the air gold, not for the first time, that ever since living with Helen she hadn't woken up with anyone in any capacity. She'd never really bothered with sleepovers. Delias soft grumble and the sound of water being splashed onto a sleepy face was oddly endearing. Patsy stifled an urge to get up and call out to Delia to say- 

And say what exactly?

She lay back down a little flatter in the bed and glanced down at her chest wanly wanting the distraction. Her ribs definitely felt better than they had since the beach, her legs were still a little foreign but that might just be the amount of bed rest she'd been taking of late. It didn't hurt to breathe anymore and that meant she was healing and if she was healing she was getting better and if she was getting better then she could hunt Phil Dyer down until the end of days. Clinging to this happy image it was with a sense of hope that Patsy smiled at Delia when she knocked on Patsys door and shuffled in looking sleepy but professional in crisp chinos and a smart top ten minutes later.

Delias limp was back this morning Patsy noted carefully, trying not to draw too much attention to her observations by flicking up immediately to Delias face as she entered the room. She must have been a bit too slow though as Delias hand snaked down to her hip any way and convulsively smoothed the fabric even as she smiled benignly.

"I didn't wake you did I?" Delia enquired gently, her voice still a little raspy from sleep and Patsy faltered as she found just how much she enjoyed hearing the odd notes on the Welsh accent.

"No. I'm usually an early riser, I've been awake for a little while." Patsy said quietly as Delia limped over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't know if you wanted to spend the day downstairs? You must be getting a bit cabin fever'd up here and you can still sleep on the sofa if you need to." Delia said, her hand still rubbing a little at her hip.

Patsy couldn't contain the rather misty grin as she nodded her head in immediate agreement, touched that Delia had thought about her to consider boredom as a factor. It was a weird feeling to be cared for like that; only Helen had ever bothered with trying.

The stairs today didn't hurt as much as yesterday and Patsy couldn't help but feel she was improving much faster for one simple reason; Delia. The realisation caught her short as Delia deposited her once again on the sofa and fussed with the blankets, remotes and just about anything else she could think of before rushing for a cup of tea before work. 

Patsy wished she'd stay; wished she could ask her to sit with her and then bit back the foolish urge to ask just that. She'd asked too much of the woman already. Far too much.

Delia only poked back into the room once more before bolting out the door. Grinning she'd dropped Patsys mobile onto the arm of the chair and said mildly;

"I thought you might need this; don't want your little wards worrying about you and that Welsh bird who's spirited you away." 

Patsy had only just managed to brush off the faint blush in her cheek at this statement when Delia winked knowingly and ducked out the room. The living room was far too warm for so early in the day. Honestly, she needed to be less of a girl about all of this, it was ridiculous.

But the memory of Delias dimples and her flashing wink kept Patsy smiling for most of the day.

\--

Patsy made three phone calls that day; two out of developing dread and one out of genuine concern. One to Ursula, one to Chummy and one to Fern. She also considered two more but after weighing up the risks chose to leave them until she was a little better. 

Helen was quite possibly the only person on earth who knew her mood from a head shake and there was no way she'd miss the catch in Patsys voice. Patsy wasn't even certain how she'd react hearing Helens voice, the risk of her bursting into tears was high and then there would be questions. Helen was a scary woman despite age taking a bite into her stature. Helen would be after blood and Patsy didn't have the heart to try and lie to her mum.

Trixie in contrast would be hard work personified and as much as Patsy loved her best friend she wasn't yet up to being chewed up over her perceived radio silence. Besides, they'd left it so funky Patsy wasn't entirely certain they were in a place where a phone call could fix it.

Patsy rang work first almost as soon as Delia left the house in a cowardly attempt to miss Ursula. She'd imagined leaving a short message and perhaps a subtle hint that she would quite like to keep her job if it was all the same to the higher ups unfortunately for Patsy Ursula picked up on the second ring, her voice crisp and official as she reeled of the department name and hers. 

"CID. DI Ursula." 

Patsy wondered idly as she stammered through a garbled apology for her absence as to what Ursulas full name was. Surely the woman hadn't plopped into existence fifty years old, miserable and without a first name. Was there, somewhere dark and dingy, a dressing gown hanging on a door with a sad little label saying 'DI Ursula'? Had a mother just given birth to DI? It was funny really; Patsy had never bothered to find out.

Ursulas conversation had been as sparse as ever; succinctly and without much inflection to her voice she'd told Patsy she was officially on leave for a sudden bereavement and wasn't expected back at the station for two weeks. Patsy, embarrassed that Ursula seemed to have worked everything out far too quickly for her liking, had tried to offer an apology only to have it waved away without much interest.

"Two weeks Mount. No arguments. Don't call me unless something else happens; I'm a busy woman."

That had been about it from that call and Patsy, smiling in bemusement, had eventually had to admit that the old bird did have a few worthwhile qualities besides the harridan persona she usually wore.

The phone call to Chummy, in contrast to Ursula, had been very long. Patsy had wilted in chagrin as Chummy had shouted over her apologies with apologies of her own. Damp little phrases like; 'I simply had no idea old chum' and 'terribly insensitive blathering buffoon' made their way into Patsys ears and curled up. Chummys good manners seemed to mean that any bad behaviour on Patsys part was simply sucked up and recycled into character building conversations between pals. Patsy had just sat there letting the flow of good breeding surround her like a fluffy cocoon.

It was only after a good half an hour that Patsy managed to push through the general niceties to ask about Val. Chummy hadn't wanted to give her much information but from what Patsy had been able to discern was that the forensics were unlikely and the squad were looking into possible gang affiliations. Dyer had not visited his wife in the morgue.

Before ending the conversation Patsy had finally taken a leap of faith and asked Chummy to look into Winnifreds possible link to Dyer or the station although she took care not to phrase it that way making it sound like she was accusing anyone. Chummy had agreed immediately; ever helpful and kind and promised to call back if she found anything. Patsy had agreed hoping very much that Chummys help would not come at a price but unable to think of any other way to get the information she needed.

By the time she'd finished with Chummy she felt much calmer and buoyed enough to call Fern thinking she might be able to get to the teenager before she hit afternoon classes at school.

To her displeasure, she quickly found that Fern was not in fact in school when she answered her phone almost instantly. Instead it became apparent that she was cloistered at the flat "keeping an eye on stock for Mick". Patsy had tried to focus on this subject irritably aware that Fern was in the middle of her first year GCSE's but Fern had a focus all of her own and was not to be deterred easily.

"So who's the Welsh girl?" She'd asked pointedly.

"Hello Fern how are you? Good, excellent. Me? Oh please, don't ask so many questions I'm completely fine, your concern was lovely but unnecessary."

Fern gave a very teenager like sigh and Patsy stifled a grin as she waited.

"Hello then, happy?" Fern said sarcastically.

"Ecstatic." Patsy answered dead pan still smiling faintly. There was a brief pause as Fern realised the sass would get her nowhere and went down a different tack.

"So... Who's the Welsh girl?" 

Patsy rolled her eyes at Ferns now disinterested tone. Teenagers. 

"Her names Delia, she's a friend." Patsy said in a warmer voice, knowing Fern was possibly freaked.

"Like a girlfriend?" Fern asked suspiciously and Patsy felt her cheeks burn at the direct question but managed to keep a stern voice to her.

"No. Like a friend friend. I do have a few of them, you'll meet them all in time so I wouldn't get too excited... If there was anyone who needed to know that it'd be you kid."

"Oh' Fern said sounding relieved, 'I just wondered, you know, because if you've got a girlfriend you might not..." Fern trailed off awkwardly and Patsy recalled being fourteen and wanting to stay at Helens house so badly but terrified she'd be told to leave.

"'Might not want to have you guys staying with me?' Patsy finished gently, 'don't be silly. You guys come first over any girlfriend and trust me that's not something I do."

"I don't mind if you do have one." Fern said quickly and Patsy snorted at her ability to be magnanimous now the threat had been removed.

"I don't. Delias just a friend." Just a friend I wouldn't mind keeping in close contact with and potentially finding out what those legs look like without massive shorts on Patsy added silently. 

In a purely platonic friendship way of course. Of course.

"Seppie drew you a picture for when you come round next." Fern informed her shyly and Patsy felt something in her chest crack a little. Heart. Everywhere.

"She did?" Patsy asked happily, crossing her legs on the sofa.

"Yeah. It's all of us and a dog." Fern said with a meaningful cough. Patsy rolled her eyes but she couldn't stop smiling.

"Tell her red says she'll teach her subtlety in time, she needs to work at it."

"You tell her yourself,' Fern answered with a nervous seriousness, 'you're better at signing than me anyway and besides; she's missed you. Keeps asking me when you're taking us out of here." Fern tried to sound like an older sister mocking a younger one but the wistful edge was undeniable.

"Soon kid. I'm a bit poorly at the minute,' Patsy sat up straighter and felt her ribs twinge ominously, 'got a stinking flu but I'll come round next week. We'll meet at the park again how about that?"

"Can we go to mrs B's, Seppie doesn't believe me about waffles and I don't think I described it properly to her."

"Yeah. Sounds pretty perfect to me, how about next Monday. Everything okay though? Mick not giving you any trouble, your mum?"

"No,' Fern said gloomily, 'they've been out a lot. Micks selling something or talking to someone, no idea what. There's no food in the house but I don't mind. Seppie gets hungry a lot, I don't know what to tell her."

"What!' Patsy sat up sharply ignoring the pain in her ribs as rage swept through her, way to miss the big point kid. 'You are not eating? For fucks sake Fern! When did you last eat?" 

"It's fine,' Fern said taken aback at the ire in Patsys voice, 'honestly Patsy were okay it's happened before, we've got some bread and sugar and stuff. I know how to look after us."

"Sugar sandwiches?' Patsy hissed incensed, 'that's all you've got to eat? That's not good enough, how can the socila have left you like this for so long?"

"Well it's all I've got!" Fern said equally loud, defensive and Patsy knew she was overreacting, knew she had to calm down or she'd just push the girl away but the world was so wrong, so unfair and there was nothing she could do about it. It pissed her off something chronic.

"I'm sorry... I'm not angry at you.' Patsy said through heavy breaths, she really wasn't angry at the kids. She was angry at people who didn't care for them and one day very soon she would take those children away. Somehow. 'Look... Haven't you got any money at all?"

"Where would I get money from?" Fern said tartly, still obviously bruised at Patsys uncharacteristic shouting.

"Right... right.' Patsy forced herself to see through the red, tried to calm down, 'what can I do to help? I can get money to you?"

"You could come and pick us up?" Fern suggested hopefully and Patsy wanted to tug at her hair in frustration. She couldn't even do stairs at the minute how the fuck was she going to get to Fern?

"I can't, I'm really not well enough sweetheart, I could try and get someone to get to you."

"No. You know what people are like, newbies get sniffed out straight away and Micks already jumpy."

"I will get you out of there sweetheart, soon. Both of you." Patsy would do it. This had to stop.

"You better not be lying Patsy." Fern whispered into the phone, something banged in the background. Front door, time was up.

"Soon. I promise you." I promise I promise I promise.

"Bye." Ferns voice cut off sharply as the call was ended and Patsy could only assume Mick or Allie had come home early.

Patsy sat on the sofa in frustrated impotence long after the call ended, hating herself for being weak staring down at the useless block of plastic and glass in her hand. Hating Dyer for removing her from the race. Hating Mick and Allie for being no better than they were. Childishly she smacked the sofa arm so that the phone fell out of her slack grasp and whizzed across the floor. She didn't bother to get it back.

Fat lot of use any of it had really done anyway.

Patsy spent the rest of the day in high dudgeon, grumpy and sour she pushed herself too hard in some self devised compensation for the suffering of those she could not protect right now. Sweating and swearing she forced her aching body to make pathetic laps of the downstairs front room. The pain wore her out long before her self disgust did. She felt useless and pathetic even as she slumped back down to the sofa and fell asleep.

She should be stronger than this.

What were the wages of sin indeed?

When Patsy woke up again she felt less exhausted and calmer in her mind. She did not get up to walk pointless circles but she lapped her own head instead. It was a longer walk that way at least.

She had to get the girls out. There had to be a way. Sue had said that there was an impending court date but that could take months and neither Patsy or the girls were going to wait that long. Patsy had to solve this.

It took an hour of pushing ideas about that Helen crossed Patsys mind. Helen, of course, was a registered foster parent. She'd done it when she'd taken Patsy in as a matter of course. Perhaps... Perhaps if Helen became the girls temporary guardian while Patsy sorted out Mick and Allie out? Maybe it could work.

Patsy blew out a sullen sigh as she stared at the ceiling above her.

She could do this. For those two she would have to do this and most importantly she wanted to do this. Somehow she would save them. She'd make room and if Hel-

Her thoughts were broken off rudely as a new sound reached her ears. Feet on gravel? Patsy blinked over at the clock on the wall and realised that it was nearly half four. Delia was home, opening the door.

"I don't know, I told you I need some time." The door closed with a clink as Delias voice whispered audibly through the open door to the lounge. She sounded harassed as keys rattled on the table by the coat rack. Patsy shut her eyes hurriedly and lay back down, not wanting Delia to know she was awake and listening. Something about the tone said this conversation was meant to be private.

"Well you're hardly in a position to make- And what's that supposed to mean exactly?' Patsy sensed rather than saw as Delias head poked around the door, checking to see if Patsy was asleep and then disappearing again abruptly, her voice sharp as she cradled her mobile phone against her cheek.

Patsy waited what she judged to be a respectable while before opening her eyes again, trying to find the muted weave of the curtains interesting. She probably wasn't supposed to hear this. She could guess who Delia was talking to, everything about her voice dripped 'domestic'. Jessie had finally popped up then.

"Well I don't think you're in a posi-' Delia said from the kitchen now, her voice masked as the kettle rattled angrily against its cradle. Jessie seemed to have cut her off, Delias breathing was laboured and the clunk of a mug scraping from a cupboard was too heavy. She was pissed then.

Thinking about it Patsy shouldn't be as happy about that as she was really. Still.. she couldn't hide the smile mingling on her lips.

"Jess I'm asking nicely,' Delia spoke again and Patsy could imagine her pushing at her temples as the kettle continued to boil noisily. 'I don't want you round here yet. I need time to think things through."

Another pause and then;

"Well now I'm making a decision for myself thank you. If you were so worried about me you wouldn't have fucked half the-" Delia suddenly broke off as the kettle flicked off and the rising volume of her voice was more obvious. Patsy didn't know if Delia wanted to make sure Patsy didn't hear or if Jessie had interrupted her. Hard to tell.

"You're being ridiculous. How can you be angry at me right now?' A spoon clinked against pottery as Delias voice came out quietly now; probably for Patsys benefit then. 'I didn't do what you did Jess."

Patsy listened carefully, her ears straining with only a tiny piece of guilt. If Delia truly didn't want to be overheard she could have gone upstairs and besides... Patsy wanted to know what was going on with the two of them.

"This is my house,' Delia said after a long pause, her tone stony and Patsy pictured shutters slamming down, 'if you want to get legal sweetheart; you're not on the mortgage, I am, remember? You weren't ready for that responsibility, I should have known it was more than that... God, I don't want you here." Delia drifted off into bitterness and Patsy glanced around with a bit more interest. 

So this was really just Delias place?

"Who told you that?" Delias tone had changed, a spoon clunked in the sink quieter than any other movement, 'you're spying on me?" 

Patsy frowned at the curtains. Spying? Carefully she turned her head a little to point her ear more into the air.

"And if I do?' Delias voice was defensive now, like a child caught misbehaving, 'I'm a free agent after all, I can have a friend round if I want. It's none of your business if I've had half the cast of rent round here at-"

Again she cut off as though Jessie had interrupted, a finger drummed on a side impatiently and then came a tap tap sound as a mug was lifted and replaced forcefully. 

'You're judging me by your own standards not mine. Stop it or I'm hanging up, I only took the call because the texts were filling up my phone." Patsy hoped she never had cause for that level of disappointment that seemed to ring from every syllable. Jessie though, or so it seemed, was far less affected. Whatever she was saying didn't seem all that apologetic if the frantic beat of Delias fingers on the counter top was any sign.

Then there came an angry indrawn hiss before Delia spoke, derision and frustration vying for top sentiment.

"Oh so now you're sad? Not being with me makes you sad?' Delia said scornfully, 'Odd really because normally you can't wait to get out the door. I'm sorry if it makes me a bitch to say it but I'm struggling to believe you Jessica; not when you were all for bailiffs a few minutes ago."

Patsy gave up all pretence of sleep when Delias voice drifted further away towards the back doors and she had to sit up to keep the Welsh lilt in ear shot. She wasn't unsuccessful at least.

She'd only missed a few bits.

'-Well I'll comfort myself with the knowledge you'll find company quickly; why don't you ring your Vicky? or Syd? Or in fact any of the half a dozen women from your fucking email lists, I've no doubt they'll be ready with waiting arms."

Patsy blinked and took in the closed laptop still resting on the coffee table. Ahh, Patsy saw the night before again from this new angle in an altogether different light. Well, Patsy told herself, she should have guessed it wasn't the water table really.

'Oh don't bother; I've seen the messages and the pictures. You really are one cocky shit did you know that? You didn't even password protect your log in on our shared laptop.' Delia was witheringly cold and Patsy shivered at the unusual hardness from a woman she'd come to think of as ever patient.

'Just stay away for a bit Jess, I mean it, I don't want you near me.'

Patsy sank back into the sofa, not wanting to listen anymore. Jessica was an idiot but she'd been Delias idiot. Patsy had already heard enough. Delia was entitled to her privacy although thinking that did not mean Patsy could turn off her ears. She supposed she could stick her fingers in them or hum but that would rather give the game away that she was awake.

Delia, when she spoke next, was much closer but her voice was shallow and pained and it finally dawned on Patsy that she wasn't the only one with a broken heart under this roof. They had a lot in common underneath it all... At least Jessie wasn't dead though.

'I left everything for you, my friends, my work; everything. I'm... I'm so angry Jess. I don't know how you could do this and so many times. Why? Why did you move us here if all you were going to do was ruin it? I said it was weird, you did it in a matter of weeks, said we had to get up here because of all the opportunities and I just didn't understand it; kept telling myself it was really because you were ready to grow up but you weren't were you? I bet the only reason you didn't screw the estate agent was that he was a bloke. You're just...' Delia broke off, a foot vibrated against the floor in the hall and Patsy shut her eyes just in case Delia thought to peek around the door.

She seemed distracted though, the toe of her shoe tapping so fast she'd start scratching the fake wood soon. 

"Well I don't. I haven't in a long time and this has proved to me that you're in the same boat. Stay at your mum and dads, go and see who you like, fuck everything that isn't nailed down for all I care; I'm done. When I'm ready we'll sort everything out but I swear to God if I see you here Jess I'll not be accountable for my actions. Stay. Away."

There was another long drawn out pause as Jessie spoke her piece but Delia didn't bother with any more responses. The phone dinged merrily as the call was cut off and Delia paused outside the living room door breathing hard for what felt like a very long time to Patsy before eventually moving towards the stairs with a sigh. Stumping up to get changed. Patsy cracked an eye and stared up at the ceiling as footsteps made their way across the boards feeling strangely tranquil.

The feeling of dislike towards Jessie had certainly intensified, yes, but other feelings... Hmm? Patsy bit her lip as she thought about Delia. She wanted to help in some way but didn't feel brave enough to ask face on about the womans relationship. To do so would feel seedy and Patsy didn't want to be that. 

Patsys stomach chose this moment to growl loudly and she glanced down at it in a thoughtful frame of mind as an idea occurred to her. 

Food was always a winner surely?

-

When Delia came back downstairs about half an hour later, her skin pink from scrubbing, Patsy was sat up with the tv on. Delias smile was a genuine one as she poked her head round the door and saw the scene. Without a word she came in, her thickly socked feet paddingn heavily on the floor. She'd changed out of her work stuff and got back into her shorts and baggy t-shirts she favoured. Patsy found that she quite liked the show of muscular legs as they flitted past her. Delia slumped into the free space on the sofa beside Patsy with an unconscious casual gait; without either of them thinking their legs bumped in a friendly way and Patsy didn't move away. 

"Hey." Patsy greeted easily looking over at the woman. Delias face still seemed strained, Patsy noted carefully the slight creases at the corners of her eyes and the hard press of her lips. None the less Delia smiled at Patsys greeting.

"You're awake, how do you feel?" Delia was in business mode it appeared although she looked fond as she reached through the insubstantial gap between them to brush her palm over Patsys forehead. Patsy felt the hairs on her arms lift at the contact and smiled back a little ruefully, staring at Delias exposed collar.

"Fine, fine honestly; fit as a fiddle."

"What did you do today?" Delia asked curiously, her hands rubbing her hip as she groaned and stretched her legs out in front of her. The hairs on Patsys neck raised again at the sound.

Disney. Keep it sodding disney Mount, you told Fern you didn't do girlfriends so don't become even more of a liar. Delia, even in their short time together, had already given off enough signals to tell Patsy very clearly she was not the sort of woman who would do casual sex and, Patsy had to admit, she too would not feel comfortable with that kind of relationship concerning Delia. It was unnatural even in the theoretical.

"Made a few calls, spoke to work. I still have a job I think which is good." Spoke to Fern. That thought should technically throw Patsy back into her mire of frustration but Delias presence stopped it somehow. It was hard to lose her mind with someone as solid as Delia around. Delia was the metaphorical version of an anchor.

"Excellent."

"You?" Patsy asked sincerely; finding Delia just as interesting as Delia seemed to find her. Delia blinked as though the question wasn't one she heard all that often and frowned as she thought of an answer.

"The usual stuff really... We've just been given next years project ideas and my TA's leaving to be a full time mum so I'm helping with the interview process. The PA keeps bugging Phyllis about more frequent meetings in the month and she's asked me to take lead which is lovely but time consuming. Plus I've got a few kids coming up from the year below who have extra needs and one of the boys mothers is really keen to have a few meetings before hand to discuss his requirements.' Delia rolled her eyes, 'because I've never worked with children who struggle obviously. Today was quiet though, we got to do a few experiments with rocks, would have been perfect if Benjamin Stubbs didn't try and pour water down Abigail Tamps summer dress. Idiot boy."

"Oh dear, were there tears?"

"I'm year five, there are always tears, hormones start kicking in at that age, you know the drill.' Delia said with a smirk, 'They just all grow up so quickly these days, it's frightening really. You know I had to tell off Samantha Jones, not even ten mind you, the other day because she came in with the entire number 7 range plastered all over her face. Honestly, it was amazing, false eyelashes and everything. Most annoyingly she'd done it really well. Sometimes I think our generation went wrong somewhere; I wanted to tell her to go and experiment with blue kohl like tradition demands."

"Shaving off your eyebrows, that sort of thing?" Patsy suggested innocently and Delia laughed.

"Exactly. Half of them look twenty and disillusioned with the world, its mad."

"Why can't they be like we were eh? Perfect in every way." Patsy said dryly thinking of what she'd looked like at nine. She had definitely not been wearing makeup. 

"Hmm' Delia said pressing her hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn, 'anyway, how do you feel really, you're not just saying you're fine to appease me are you?"

'No, honestly I really am fine, ribs and everything still intact. I don't know, I guess I'm hungry, that's about it." 

"Yeah... I should probably cook something." Delia replied without much motivation as she released her grip on Patsys head and slumped back. She looked and sounded exhausted. Patsys fingers twitched as she felt a mad surge to give the girl a well deserved hug. Delia had seemed a bit more frazzled day by day since Patsy had woken up, her responses were slower and she yawned near constantly and Patsy resolved that tonight she would do something to remedy that. Patsy might still not be fighting fit but it was clear to her that Delia needed a bit of TLC too and Patsy was here wasn't she? Wasn't that what friends did? 

"I had a different idea.' Patsy said evenly, bringing her hands a little closer to her knees casually. 'Takeout? Whatever you want, we can get some ice cream in too and maybe watch a film? I'm still beat and I know you've had a long week what with looking after me. I don't really know what's on and if you want to do work or something but I just thought something simple... I mean, only if you want to." Patsy finished lamely trailing into self consciousness as Delia watched her silently.

"You want a watch a film with me?" She asked confused as though Patsy had offered something completely Alien. 

God, was that a weird thing to ask? Patsy didn't really know the drill for this sort of thing. Helen used to like shit films and Trixie sometimes suggested the movies on the rare occasion they managed to plan a girls evening.

"It was just a stupid idea. Forget it, must be the concussion." Patsy muttered, her ears burning until Delia reached out and tapped Patsys leg affectionately.

"That sounds... Well do you know that sounds pretty perfect to me. Can we have pizza with pineapple?" Delia asked happily. Patsy grinned.

"And anchovies?" Patsy qualified sounding far too much like an idiot for her own liking. Delia merely nodded and beamed like they were some kind of dream team.

They ordered the pizza, reading off the list from a menu taped to Delias fridge, Patsy shouting Delia down when the Welsh woman offered to pay. They eventually managed to find an old whimsy film starting on one of the plus one channels while they waited for it to arrive. Delia dragged the coffee table over; relegating the laptop onto the floor without apparently caring if it broke or not and they sat side by side on the sofa with their twinned socked feet resting inches apart as a blonde cowgirl tried to impress the boys and one showgirl while singing jaunty tunes in the Wild Wild West.

Patsy grinned when she thought of what Helen would say if her mother ever were to find out she'd voluntarily picked a musical. Delia hummed along to some of the catchier songs under her breath and when Patsy turned to look at her profile Delias eyes were riveted to the screen, the faint blueish tint from the tv giving a strange glow to her skin.

Beautiful.

By the time the pizza had arrived and they'd chewed their way through the entire thing and shared a tub of ice cream the night had drawn in and the air was cooling just slightly. Somehow Delia had drawn closer as they shared out the pizza box, her arm rested casually on Patsys leg and it felt so damn normal Patsy was unnerved.

Again, she felt as though somehow she'd done all this before somehow. It felt too natural. By the time the blonde was shooting at the showgirl Delia had plucked a blanket from the turn of the sofa and slung it over their legs. It occurred to Patsy that she really needed to get her own clothes back. The too short tracksuit bottoms were funny at first but her calves missed warmth. She missed plaid. 

The movie ended with the expected final song and the two girls having found husbands at the very last minute despite seeming quite capable of living together independently.

Delia yawned. It was only eight. Patsy fiddled with the frayed edge of the blanket as the film turned to rolling black credits and Delia turned to watch her, blinking lazily.

"What are you looking at?" Delia asked mildly as she noticed Patsy watching right back. Patsy didn't look away.

"You. Just you. Didn't know you liked musicals that's all, guess I'm surprised."

"I'm a mine of secrets Patsy, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, all that good stuff." Delia said smiling as she yawned again and stretched her back, her arms reaching over her head as her spine clicked loudly and Patsy didn't look away. Delia really was lovely.

Sad too sometimes but mainly lovely.

"You're confusing I know that much." Patsy said wistfully.

Delia let out a sort of ppft sound as she squinted at Patsy, eyebrows raised in a sardonic display.

"I'm confusing? Me?" Delia sounded mock outraged and Patsys lips twitched at the obvious dig.

"I'm not confusing, I'm random, there is a difference." She said silkily and Delia laughed again, shuffling about and moving the covers more fully over her arms, letting some of it spill out over Patsy, picking up the remote.

Patsy settled more comfortably into the sofa as Delia idly channel hopped until she reached the news channels. Local.

The headline was a flashing reality check.

"Dead body of woman found on Poplar beach." 

Patsy felt the air freeze around her, her eyes riveted to the screen in morbid fascination as a pretty blonde sat behind a desk reeling off basic facts. A head shot of Vals face blown up unflatteringly large hung on the blue screen behind her. 

Patsy only realised Delia was watching her when she felt a leg press against her own comfortingly and she jerked out of habit, turning to find Delias eyes not on the television but on Patsy. Inquisitive and far too knowing. 

What the fuck had Patsy said when she'd been out of it? 

"Ahh... I was going to ask you about this..." Delia said cautiously. Patsy didn't look away from the television, a camera was panning along the beach front. It looked like old footage.

"The girls at work have all been saying a police officers wife was killed. They said she was murdered." Delia went on sounding as though she was barely stifling serious amounts of questions but Patsy didn't really take it in, distracted by the sudden onslaught of emotions at hearing the truth of the matter said so casually. Like Val was just a conversation piece, something to be mentioned over soup.

As for the media attention, well, she couldn't really muster interest. Second body within a few weeks found on the beach. It shouldn't be a surprise that the news had caught on.

"I wasn't sure if... I wanted to ask but I didn't know... Well, they were talking about it today in the staff room. She was well known I think." Delia started and stopped in fits of embarrassment, clearly having been thinking for quite some time on the subject. Patsy scratched at her knee, her hands were shaking again but she wasn't tired.

Not physically anyway. 

"Valerie. Her name was Valerie. Val to her friends. Valerie Dyer; my bosses wife." Patsy grunted, not meeting Delias eye.

"Oh.' Was all Delia could say as she watched Patsy curiously. 'Did... So you knew her then?" 

"In a manner of speaking.' Patsy said stiffly and then, when Delia merely continued to stare at her, waiting, Patsy sighed and spoke very quickly in a harsh rush. 'We were seeing each other for a while, nothing serious, just a bit of fun." 

"I see...' Said Delia in the same delicate tone as before as Patsy crossed her arms across her chest. 'Were? You stopped though... was that- When was that?" She finished hesitantly, her eyes wary as she scanned the side of Patsys face.

Patsy chewed her tongue mutinously, not really wanting to talk about this with anyone, at all, at any time but not really able to think up a good enough excuse not to. Delia had been more than generous with her time and attention and Patsy owed her some recompense; if Delia wanted to spend her gratitude tokens in details of Patsys tawdry love life then that was her business. Who was Patsy to deny her really?

"Recently. Seemed like it was the right time to stop. She wasn't going to leave him and I wanted... stuff she couldn't give me." 

"Like what?" Delia asked with wide eyes and Patsy wondered if the woman was imagining something fantastically adventurous or sexual. Patsy shrugged limply still refusing to look at Delia. Vals picture flashed up on the television again, Dyers arm was wrapped around her shoulder with his face cropped out. It was a fairly recent one by the look of it; taken at the cops annual BBQ on the beach from Phils kiss the cook apron. Val had come round to Patsys the night after that event and left serious damage on the skin of Patsys back as Patsy recalled. Patsy didn't remember if they'd talked much that night. Probably not.

"Stupid things.' Patsy said woodenly, watching the picture disappear from view as the camera returned to the news studio, the presenters drifting onto the next story; something about a law firm closing under an investigation from the Met in London. 'Stuff I don't really think I should have asked for." Patsy said this feeling ridiculous, acutely aware of how pathetic she sounded right now and braced, out of old habit, for ridicule or amusement. Stupid. They had been stupid things indeed. Other peoples requests, not hers.

"You- Oh.' Delia paused, her lips persed tightly as her eyes took on a calculating edge. The silence hung between them all of a sudden very full and then- 'Did... Were you in love with her?" Delia asked gently after a while, her voice breathy and timid asking the only question Patsy didn't really have an answer for. Patsy screwed up her face and closed her eyes.

Hell if she knew. Was what Val and she had some strange version of love? When it started she'd wished it would be, or at least she'd accepted it as the best thing she'd ever have. Revealing that painful truth truly was too much information though. Even to Delia.

"No...Yes... Does it matter?' Patsy forced herself to give a painful half grin as she turn to meet Delias eye, hoping her lip wasn't wobbling. Hoping Delia couldn't see how bad this hurt. It felt like she had a fist shoved in her throat, blocking the air. 'She never loved me back so I don't think it counts." 

Delia frowned at the convoluted answer before her expression cleared and she patted Patsys hand consolingly.

"It counts.' She said seriously. 'I'm sorry for your loss Pats."

Patsy really did feel her eyes prick with something too close to tears for her liking then and had to clear her throat noisily to hide that fact. An intrinsic part of Patsy immediately urged her to throw back the sympathy in Delias face or make a joke or just change the damn subject... but Delia was so clearly sincere, her hand still ever present, that those responses weren't much of an option. 

"Thank you." Patsy said eventually voice heavy, the words a weight on her windpipe. Hard to say but easy to mean. Delia was all kinds of different really. Val would have hated her.

"She was a lucky woman.' Delia said in a bracing sort of voice now, trying to lighten the mood. 'I imagine you're hard to walk away from when you're all loved up."

"Who said she walked away?' Patsy asked ruefully, unsurprised that Delia had made the obvious assumption and hating it. 'I made the decision for us. I told you; she didn't feel like that back."

"Oh, I just assumed-"

"What? That she'd had enough of her dirty little secret and gone back to her fairytale marriage? Ding dong bells ring out, villagers rejoice, evil lesbian banished back to where she came from." Patsy felt an impotent anger at the idea she was somehow the villain. Val had come to her bed of her own free will for fucks sake. Patsy never forced anyone. She didn't need to do that.

"I wasn't thinking anything like that." Delia backtracked quickly aghast, her cheeks flushing.

"Yeah well,' Patsy said coolly, 'if it were up to her she'd have kept right on believe me. I'm catnip I'll have you know." 

"God you're so arrogant." Delia mumbled with undisguised awe and Patsys returning smile was all teeth.

"It's only arrogance if you can't back up your claims Delia. The love stuffs totally unimportant; sometimes it's just about fun." Patsy felt belligerent, wanting to shock Delia into ending the conversation somehow but it seemed she'd done the opposite and opened the subject up to more questions. Delia cocked her head, her eyes narrowed as she stared at Patsy and when she spoke it was in a less conciliatory tone than before.

"So Jessie... Did you love Jessie too? Or was that just fun?" Delia had obviously been wanting to ask this for quite some time. There was a definite undercurrent of justified but stifled resentment there and Patsy felt her own anger wilt and fade in the face of it.

"No.' Patsy said haltingly, her turn to be embarrassed now. 'That was a one time thing I promise you. I was in a pub, minding my own business and she bought me a pint and then... She had a room and asked me to go and... I had no idea you even existed and if I had-" 

"What? You wouldn't have done it?' Delia filled in the blanks looking disbelieving. 'Why on earth not?" 

"Because' Patsy struggled to explain herself properly. What she wanted to say was; because no one chooses burger over prime steak. Because every time I talk to you I feel like I'm arriving home. Because I regret hurting you. Because I wish I deserved someone like you.

But Patsy couldn't say any of it, too much a coward and settled instead for;

'not all that's gold glitters and I disagree with infidelity to a point. Yeah' She forstalled Delias incredulous look tiredly, 'I know it's hard to trust but Val was different. She needed it and her husband- He never needed to find out." 

"But he did didn't he? He did this to you." Delia supposed shrewdly and Patsy shrugged. Regretting the move almost immediately as her shoulder twinged.

"Just a door. I told you." 

"Right." 

There was a long pause as Patsy rested her head more comfortably against the back of the sofa. Delia seemed preoccupied with something else and all Patsy could do was wait to find out what was coming.

She should have known the worst bit had yet to come.

"Was- was it good? With Jessie I mean?" Delia spoke slowly like a person who, having found an interesting grenade on the floor, is just pondering what this shiny ring thing littered beside it does. Patsy cracked her eye open, a white noise whirring in her ears. 

What a question to ask.

"Not really,' She answered as gently as she could manage. 'It wasn't anything worth writing home for. We were a bit drunk and to be honest, from what I recall, she was selfish." 

"Yes.' Said Delia absentmindedly, 'she is a bit... and... did you think about it much afterwards? I'm not petty enough to not know she's hot, more your style of companion than-" Delia stopped abruptly, looking down at her fingernails shyly but Patsy thought she knew what hadn't been said. She hated that Delia thought so little of herself when the reality was so achingly different.

"Err." Patsy fidgeted uncomfortably. What could she say? The truth was; no, she hadn't. It had been a twist of fate running into Jessie again at all and by that time Patsy had noticed Delia and-

"Sorry, sorry.' Delia was flapping her hands in front of herself as though warding off reprisals. 'I shouldn't be asking you all of this should I? I know it's weird. It's just I don't really know what the rules are here. How I'm supposed to treat someone who slept with my partner." 

"Rudely I think, maybe polite disdain." Patsy suggested sheepishly and Delia smiled before shaking her head.

"I know I sound quite prudish but I don't see why you do it you know. All that one night stand stuff. I mean, what do you get out of it, all those women. It must be lonely."

"I suppose it probably looks that way from the outside but it's always worked out for me." Until recently anyway Patsy finished in the privacy of her head as Delia sighed and looked doleful.

"But if it's only ever once then surely all you ever do is...' Delia paused searching for an appropriate adjective, 'fuck. Don't you ever want more than that?" Delia made it sound so simple that for a moment Patsy almost saw it as she did; flowers and hearts and things Patsy didn't do.

"Well fucking has its charms." Patsy offered obstinately, trying to break the sudden tension but Delia didn't seem to want to play ball for once. She was surveying Patsy almost pityingly.

"Maybe, but making love... Well,' Delia shrugged as though the phrase spoke for itself, 'didn't you ever want that with someone? Anyone? Didn't any of them mean something to you?"

Patsy was definitely feeling a little hot around the collar right now and a part of her wanted to snipe at Delia for her childish, one plus one equals two, imaginings of love. Another part, newer but deeper, cringed and felt ashamed at how she was perceived though. She didn't want to be considered shallow and by the by Patsy wasn't really. She just didn't bother talking about things no one else seemed to care about.

Except now Delia cared on Patsys behalf and that was disconcerting.

"Sometimes I suppose but... Never got that far. No one wanted me for that sort of thing." The bald truth was difficult to get out and Patsy hated herself for saying it at all. Delia sighed.

"I can't believe some of them didn't want you that way somehow Pats. Maybe you didn't let them. You just have to learn how to... I don't know, trust? It's like you don't know who you are half the time. It's sad." Delia sighed and reached absently to stroke the back of Patsys hand like Patsy was some hesitant animal that would lash out from the shock.

"You make it sound like it's easy' Patsy said bitterly, 'but sometimes it's not. Sometimes it just means nothing, Jessie meant nothing."

"And so by your logic then if you slept with someone you knew like, I don't know, me for instance... it would mean nothing?" Delia asked quietly, her eyes searching Patsys face carefully, pulling Patsy up short as that singular possibility flashed up.

"No...' Patsy said in a voice higher than usual, 'I would think about you." 

"You don't have to lie to me.' Delia said sharply, 'I was only using myself as an example."

"Oh.' Patsy managed weakly, a little too slow, 'Well that's-"

"I mean' Delia went on as if Patsy hadn't spoken, 'I know I wouldn't be- hell, I know I couldn't be as exciting as some other women you've slept with." Delia said it in an embarrassed undertone and Patsy blushed and smacked her hand on the sofa cushion without thinking to make Delia look at her. 

"You should take some of your own advice you know. You're far more interesting to me than a lot of others I could name." She said thickly, desperate to make Delia see what she saw.

"A shame my girlfriend didn't think the same way." Delia said, eyes glinting and Patsy ached to take that doubt growing like a weed in the womans voice away. Jessie was an idiot.

"One womans idiocy is anothers good luck." Patsy said quietly, sliding just a little closer to Delia as something jumped in her stomach. Felt like a party was going on in there.

"And I'm the idiot right?" Delia said sadly as Patsy unwound a finger and drew tense little patterns in the sofa cushion to prevent her hand from going where it shouldn't. Mustn't.

"I think you're really special Delia. I... I'm sorry you got rain when you deserve the sunshine." Patsy felt cheesy saying it, recalled it from a fridge magnet or mug somewhere but felt it fit in this moment. Delia let out a disbelieving chuckle and shook her head again.

"No. Jessie never really loved me I think. We were convenient for each other; safe but I always knew... I wasn't ever her first choice. She never wanted me like I was enough really, it's hardly a surprise she went elsewhere I mean I'm just..." But Delia stopped herself again, apparently unable vocalise quite what she thought she was, rubbing errantly at her thigh like it was hurting her. 

In a way Patsy was glad Delia hadn't finished he statement; Delia would undoubtedly be wrong about her way of seeing herself and it would piss her off. Most people were wrong about themselves really and, as they sat very still in the pleasant night, Patsy chewed over one irritating fact; Jessie must have done quite a bit of damage for Delia not to realise how damned attractive she was.

"If you want... I can arrest her for something? Defamation of character, being a general toe rag, I'll do it for you." Patsy went for levity because sincerity would open a floodgate to something neither of them would thank her for when Delia realised how big a mistake Patsy was. 

The lame joke half worked, Delia straightened slightly and rolled her eyes.

"Getting yourself fired for wasting tax payers time wouldn't help me." Delia said reasonably.

"Maybe it would help me though." Patsy muttered, slightly hurt at the dismissal of her offer of retribution. 

"You know... that doesn't make any sense." Delia bit her lip frowning over at Patsy looking briefly like the teacher she was.

"No but neither does much else so far." Patsy said evenly.

"Well you're not wrong there." Delia sighed and reached to stroke Patsys hand again. Patsy felt herself relax into the sensation without thought until an insistent urge pressed into her head. Words. She had to say it.

"Delia?"

"Yes Patsy." Delias voice was calm, lazy almost as her index finger traced Patsys middle fingers knuckle idly.

"I really would think about you if we slept together. I don't think I could avoid it."

The hand rubbing cut off as Delia gently removed her hand.

"Thank you. That- You should... get some sleep." Delia seemed to start out as if she was about to say something else but changed her mind halfway through. Patsy shivered slightly but it wasn't cold underneath their blanket. Their warm, shared blanket that could so easily be thrown aside.

"Probably- Strangely though I don't feel all that tired at the moment." Patsy said with a stern shake of the head. Delia, who had sat up with her hand on the arm of the seat as though to stand, paused and Patsy was glad to note that when the woman spoke she sounded as flustered as Patsy felt.

"What do you feel then?" 

"I- I don't know really. Sad I think." Patsy said knowing she was lying by ommision but not able to formulate the full kaleidoscope of thoughts pounding through her head.

Delia seemed to hesitate, her hand squeezing the arm of the chair tightly as though holding herself there, before leaning forward and placing her lips gently across Patsys forehead in a chaste but sweet kiss.

The kiss was nothing and everything and made Patsys stomach clench. 

"I'm right you know,' Delia whispered very close to Patsys ear, 'most of those women were probably half in love with you. You're not as complicated as you think you are... We should go to sleep,' smiling faintly Delia leant back and stifled a yawn as evidence, breaking the moment before it could gather momentum. 'I'm exhausted." 

Patsy watched Delia get to her feet, feeling as though they were ending an unspoken conversation and sighed before copying the movement, allowing Delia to hold her arm as they trudged up stairs and then walking alone to the door of the spare room.

"Night Pats." Delia whispered as she reached her door.

"Goodnight Delia." Patsy said as she closed hers on the woman.

Patsy lay on the bed quietly, replaying the last few moments very carefully as she waited to hear the sounds of Delia asleep from along the hall. Savouring the strange but wonderful idea that Delia Busby had kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people we're winding this down now. Two more chapters with these two and then its all back to angst a-go-go land. Thrown a few hints in for the eagle eyed readers at whats about to happen but if you missed them thats fine, theres a humongous one in the next installment.
> 
> Feel free to tell me if this is dragging now, I'm a universal worrier about things like this. Also, Ive been reading tipping the velvet again and I do apologise if my language has gone a but clinical I'm like a sponge for language, it all just gets sucked up and dumped later.
> 
> Big lubs
> 
> SB


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard  
> Hard, not to sit on your hands  
> Burrow your head in the sand  
> Hard, not to make other plans  
> And claim that you've done all you can  
> All alone  
> And life  
> Must go on
> 
> Yan Tierson. Les jours Tristes.

When Patsy woke up on Saturday morning it was with a strange feeling she struggled to identify immediately hanging in the periphery of her subconscious; hope. Her chest didn't hurt anywhere near as bad as it had and though her thighs ached a bit from yesterday's pacing the movement seemed to have done her good. In fact, she felt invigorated, ready to seize the day.

Grinning, buoyed up by what could only be considered optimism in a very unfamiliar hearth, Patsy jumped out of bed, unwilling to languish in bed today and strolled downstairs.

It was still very early; dawn was only just peeking into the house through its many windows. Delias bedroom door had been closed shut as Patsy walked past and she decided not to make too much noise. Delia needed to some hard earned rest and Patsy quite enjoyed being free to move while still having relative peace.

She found herself pottering around the small house as she whiled away the next hour. A quick and only slightly guilty rummage through a kitchen drawer found her a familiar rumpled packet of cigarettes shoved behind a Chinese takeaway menu. Hers. Blood had spattered the cardboard outer layer of the box which had grown soggy and then warped as it dried from her time in damp sand but the few papery cylinders inside were still in fairly good shape and she happily puffed on her first fag in over ten days outside the back door as the suns rays warmed her bare toes against the cement tiles. Faintly she fancied she smelt sea breeze in the air, the salt an inescapable part of Poplar.

Once back in the house she mooched into the living room after straining hard to listen for any sounds of Delia waking up and quietly switched on the television to catch the news. She watched with a mixture of queasy inevitability and sadness as Vals picture flashed up again. The newsreader, sporting a flash designer stubble in a crisp suit, told her blithely through too white teeth that the police had not released any further statements on the case. The summary of Vals life was depressingly short; wife, charity worker, dead. Val would have hated it. 

She sat quietly listening to the few subsequent news stories wrapped in a thoughtful frame of mind once Vals face had disappeared entirely her mind veering into maudlin territory until something else piqued her interest. She stared at the television.

After half an hour the news ended with the shiny man tapping paper officially behind a glass desk was replaced with overly coloured kids cartoons but Patsy didn't move to turn it off immediately. She was too busy pondering what she'd seen. Hard. With only a brief interlude Patsy pulled out her phone and googled something. The first query garnered her nothing, nor the second but the third found her a small article from the met daily. It didn't take much to find what she was looking for after that. She spent a good long while reading, occasionally clicking a link into another article, the sun painting pale strips of light along the floor unheeded as her eyes narrowed while she took in all the petty details. It was interesting stuff; not exactly criminal in the same way that government was not exactly corrupt... And yet.

Once certain that she'd dredged up everything she could from the internet Patsy hovered indecisively on what to do with the information. The sage old phrase that was never trouble trouble ran through her head as she chewed on a thumb nail. Then again... To be fore warned was to be forearmed was also an old wives saying too wasn't it? Patsy huffed, Old wives had too many bloody sayings anyway, who made them up? Possibly if old wives had spent a bit more time focusing on their own lives rather than coming up with pithy saying they might have done more than just be wives... All the same though. 

Not entirely sure she was making the right decision she made a choice that would doubtlessly bite her in the bum down the line and tapped out a long message to Chummy. She watched it whirr away into the back world of messages where she couldn't retrieve it without too much regret.

She'd just have to await the answer with intrigue.

Moving back into the kitchen after that Patsy smoked another cigarette again just a little way into the garden. The sun was truly up now and the air thrummed with growing heat haze as she stood, elbow bent and cupped in her left hand as she slowly let her brain consider her next conundrum. Which was, of course, the kids. She blew out a lazy smoke ring and watched it hover and fade into the air above her. This she'd thought of last night or at least refined from earlier yesterday. The answer had become increasingly obvious; Helen.

Patsy needed a ready made, certified and checked out guardian for the kids if she couldn't take on the role officially straight off the bat. Helen then seemed a perfect candidate. Helen would do it too if Patsy asked Patsy was sure. She'd always tried never to ask anything of the woman but that didn't matter; this was about kids and Helen was almost as weak as Patsy was in that area. Patsy thought bracingly that she could make a real go of it if Helen could take the initial reins. She could sort out moving house and everything and she wouldn't have broken her promise to the girls that way.

Humming contentedly Patsy tried calling Helen just to confirm her thoughts but was met but with Helens waking falsetto but with Helens businesslike voicemail. She didn't bother to leave a message; it was still early after all, she'd just have to try later today. Her stomach growled as she thought this and Patsy hastily beat a retreat back inside with thoughts of toast at the very least filling her head as she toyed maybe with the idea that she could perhaps wake Delia with breakfast. Delia might like that.

The kitchen itself was cluttered and the messiness set her teeth on edge. It wasn't exactly dirty, the sides were clear of the tat that had migrated into the bathroom at least but Delia had left the pizza box on the side alongside the dirty cups from yesterday. Patsy eyed it as she passed. In any other human Patsy would probably judge such a thing as not cleaning up before bed as sloth in its lowest form but the sight provoked completely the opposite reaction today. She recalled the night before and found herself humming tunelessly as she sought bread and brought it into violent contact with the toaster.

Once toasted and buttered she nibbled distractedly at the edge of a slice, looking around at the kitchen.

It was a nice space really; big and airy with a hint of snobbish magazine around the edges. Patsy wondered perversely if Delia and Jessie had walked around it before buying imagining their happy future together. How strange that so soon that future had altered hopefully for good. Not that that was Patsy business. Delia had sounded pretty definite about it all though and that memory alone made Patsy smile broadly as she opened the cupboard under the sink and let her hand dip through miscellaneous items like a pot of paint and chopsticks to retrieve an obviously underused antibacterial spray.

Patsy wasted no time in putting it to its function; aiming the nozzle at every available surface and hooking a cloth from the draining board. She liked cleaning, it helped her think, the ritual a calming one as her thoughts turned to Delia.

She wasn't aware that she was still humming or that her foot was tapping loudly against the floor until a dry cough from behind recalled her to the here and now with an unceremonious bump.

"You're up early." 

Patsy felt a hot flush run up her neck as she jerked around to find Delia leaning against door with her arms folded, hair mussed and a fond smirk plastered across her face. She had evidently not been awake for too long, sleep still clung to the inner corners of her eyes and there was a fading pink line on her cheek from the seam of her pillow. 

Patsy wanted to stroke it which was jarring and bizarre to think really.

"I... Er, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Patsy croaked from her end of the room. It was the first time she'd spoken that day and her voice was low and gravelly. She coughed to hide her discomfort at being watched.

"You didn't, I set an alarm but I did enjoy the free show though." Delia yawned widely, appearing completely at her ease as she strolled over to the kitchen side and jumped up to perch there. Idly she plucked Patsys half eaten slice of toast from the plate and took an enormous bite.

"I would have sold tickets." Patsy mumbled distantly, watching attentively as Delia sucked crumbs from her thumb with a plopping sound as it popped from her mouth. Patsy felt a bit muzzy headed. That wasn't quite fair this early in the morning surely. 

"I would have bought them." Delia replied silkily, her head tilting as she stared at Patsy. Dimples. Patsy liked Delias dimples.

"You just ate my toast." Patsy observed wishing she had something to lean against as Delias dimples deepened further. How deep did those damned things go? They should be illegal.

"I'll have to owe you I guess. I've got to go out today." Delia still smiled as she said it but she didn't sound all too motivated. Patsy couldn't help but love the tone.

"Oh, you mean you have a life outside of me? Shocking show Delia' Patsy only half meant it, she wanted just one day. 'Here was me planning our weekend together."

"It's all for the greater good I'm afraid, the St. Johns ambulance service to be exact. I had to promise the shift when I borrowed the kit to care for you."

"Oh." Patsy paused. Shame pooled in her guts at the reminder of how much trouble she'd caused this woman but Delia merely chuckled and shrugged.

"It is what it is but... We can have this evening if you want? I could get us a bottle in?" Delia tried to sound casual but the look she threw at Patsy was anything but and interesting parts of Patsys intestines clenched. Delia looked very sweet where she stood in her pyjama shorts, Patsy couldn't help but notice there were a few crumbs balanced just above the corner of her chin from the toast.

"The greater good? That stinks but I suppose we've all got to do our bit for a halo." Patsy sighed. Some more than others in regards to the halo.

"Who said I need a halo?' Delia chuckled rubbing her hip idly as she preened with fake indignation, 'don't you think I'm angelic enough already Patsy."

Patsy looked at Delia. Yes. Yes she did.

Wordlessly Patsy stepped forward and caught the few crumbs from Delias chin on the tips of her index finger before pulling back and, with only a moments hesitation that she might be entering dangerous territory, licked them off casually. Patsy was pleased to note that Delias eyes seemed to darken at the movement and grinned wickedly.

Check mate Delia.

"That's a date then? Tonight I mean." Patsy asked, still hiding her grin as she swiped the plate from behind Delias slack hand and tossed it into the washing up bowl.

"Sounds that way." Delia intoned rather breathlessly before running her fingers through her hair as though collecting herself. Patsy smiled down at the suds, enjoying the innocent moment so at odds with her usual life.

"I need to get ready' Delia went on sounding more resigned than excited, trying to order herself now, 'I don't suppose you could make me a tea could you?"

Patsy waved Delia off with soapy hands and bustled efficiently with kettle and cup until she reappeared ten minutes later looking much more fresh faced and disarmingly striking in her green uniform.

Patsy tried not to stare too openly as Delia took the cup and inhaled deeply before drinking. The obvious routineness of the gesture made Patsy feel strangely at home and domestic while also giving her a few unimpeded moments to appreciate the wardrobe change on the smaller woman.

Say what you like about the national health system but the uniforms could always hide a multitude of sins. Delia didn't seem to need to hide anything and Patsy thought she looked rather sweet as she sipped her drink hurriedly checking her watch. For such a short woman Delias legs definitely warranted investigation, even in the oversized trousers and belt Patsy could sense the muscle there.

Far too soon Delia was placing her empty cup back on the side looking forlorn as she glanced at Patsy still relaxed in undersized pyjamas. 

"You could try to look less appealing you know." Delia groused good naturedly. Patsy stuck out her tongue and pulled a grimace.

"Happy?" She asked through a wrinkled mouth. Delia merely rolled her eyes.

"It's not fair, how do you always look like you've stepped out of a magazine even like that."

"What can I say? I'm the gift that just keeps giving." Patsy said loftily, the affect spoiled only slightly by the blush creeping up her neck.

Delia took one final look at Patsy before visibly shaking herself and getting to her feet.

"It's no good, I shall have to leave now or I won't go at all and then what will the volunteer service do without me."

"Fall to ashes no doubt." Patsy called to the woman's retreating back. Delia just waved in reply as she rounded the corner and the front door sounded.

Patsy found herself grinning like an idiot for quite some time after Delia had gone. She felt an odd kind of happiness, it bubbled up inside her and made her feel almost giddy. She kept replaying their conversation as she finished wiping down the surfaces. A date then?

Once the kitchen was clean Patsy stared about herself trying to think what else she could do. For the first time in days she did not feel tired, instead it was as though all the excess energy she should have felt had bottled up and was now desperate to be released all in one go and she knew just where she wanted to direct it. Delia.

Or, more realistically, in doing something for Delia. Just as a platonic gift she told herself firmly even as she set about hunting out the hoover. 

Patsy worked like a woman possessed that day, rumbling through the house like a small one woman powered tornado that instead of destruction left cleanliness in her wake. She hoovered every room downstairs and the stairs but chose to stay away from Delias bedroom. It was an invasion of privacy she would hate if it were her. After that she dug out the polish and went for gold with the photo frames in the living room. Then she washed the windows inside and out and mopped the kitchen floor with enough bleach that her eyes stung.

During her sweep for the hoover Patsy also found her original clothes. Delia, clearly, had taken some time with these. They were ripped in places but Delia had taken time to wash them in detergent before the washing machine and the blood and sea stains were gone. Patsy donned them without ceremony, dropping the too small clothes onto the floor without remorse.

After the house was tidy Patsy searched through the cupboards thinking she could cook something for tonight. She may not cook all that often for just herself but for Delia she would try her best. 

She settled on a stew in the end; rich gravy and vegetables with lamb from the freezer. She made short work of that too, chopping and peeling vegetables like they'd done her a persona wrong. Her desire to make Delia smile outshone all other concerns even as she felt sweat drip from her forehead as she leaned over the bubbling pot.

Once the meat was stewing she really did have to think what else she could do. The counters faintly sparkled from overdone elbow grease. The washing pile had already miraculously been ironed which almost never happened. (An occurrence so unusual in the universe in fact for a washing pile to be freely ironed without a pressing deadline that it actually caused a small worm hole to develop in the depths of the space time continuum. No one ever knew this of course and it's occurrence was small remarked upon since it only bothered a relatively unknown species of water dwelling Alien called the bograts who incidentally do not iron and have very little sense of humour about the subject. In any case it was all put down to quantum by the species chief science officer.) 

Patsy hummed as the pot cooked until her next inspiration struck her. 

There was a pot of paint unopened in the cupboard beneath the sink. A fresh packet of paintbrushes still in their plastic coating lay beside them and Patsy eyed it indecisively while the oven ticked away cheerfully in the background. Hadn't Delia mentioned painting at Trixies disaster of a dinner party? Something about a theme wall. From what Patsy could remember from the smudgy evenings small talk Jessie had kayboshed that idea. Well, Patsy thought a shade smugly as she tugged the tub up to eye level and read the label, Jessie wasn't here right now. Patsy was. 

The label said sunshine yellow. Patsy smiled as she thought how much the colour suited Delia. Her mind already made up.

The stew was easily turned down on the stove as Patsy dragged the small table from the window and cleared the space. She had never been all that keen on home improvements really for herself but she'd painted a few fences as a small kid. The commune had always encouraged hard labour after all; said it was good for the soul. Patsy had hated it back then. She relished the feeling now.

Patsy, throughout her rather turbulent life, had never been known for her sympathy towards words. Not when it counted. She'd been raised with the words of a book dictating her entire world. Abrahams words. So, as an adult, she mainly considered words to be the toys for other people who probably wasted their life waiting for the perfect moment to arise to use a phrase they'd thought up years before. They were unoriginal copies designed to provoke things she rarely allowed herself to feel. How could she?Words could lie, words could be manipulated, words could stretch and bend and be turned into new words long after they'd been said or written down. But actions, actions held a weight all of their own and in the bedrock of Patsys soul she trusted her actions to be enough. They had to be.

And so Patsy painted Delias kitchen wall with all the precision of an artist sharpening a pencil or a poet cracking their knuckles before sinking into a keyboard abyss. Patsy painted what she didn't have the skill to say or the bravery to write.

The wall wasn't particularly big and Patsy worked steadily to ensure the edges were cut in neatly before beginning to fill the answering space. Lavishing all the attention she could muster; thinking all the while of Delias face when she saw the finished product. Imagining in minute detail the womans pleasure at the gesture.

And then they had the evening. 

Patsy painted in neat swirls, focusing intently on every inch of space without taking notice of much else; her clothes stained as she flexed and reached to cover the higher areas.

The meagre hours ticked away as the bristles spread along blank walls and left sunshine yellow in its wake. It made the place look happy. Made Patsy happy.

It was only the chirruping of her mobile phone discarded on the breakfast bar that broke through her concentration in the end. A small discord in the white noise and steady breathing. Dropping the sopping brush into the pot hastily and rubbing tacky fingers on her jeans absentmindedly Patsy reached for it as she frowned at the caller ID. Fern?

"Fern? Hey kid what's up?" With a quick glance at the drying wall Patsy walked from the kitchen into the living room. A sliver of guilt slicing her insides as she wondered what Fern would say at the idea of Patsy playing such a domestic role when she should be working on her own home for the kids.

"Patsy." Ferns voice brought Patsy back to the moment with a jolt. It sounded off. Forced somehow.

"Fern? Is everything okay sweetheart?" Patsy said more carefully now, focusing heavily on the girls even breathing as her back brain tried to work out how long it would take her to get to her jeep from Delias. She'd left it at the beach. She hadn't asked Delia where she'd put the keys though.

"Yeah, everything's fine." Fern said in the same off tone and Patsy sat down, the phone clasped to her ear firmly.

"It doesn't sound fine.' Patsy noted dryly. 'You know you can tell me anything Fern. Fern?" Patsy had to repeat the name as the breathing on the other end sped up suddenly and she was left waiting in suspense as Fern seemed to be trying to control herself.

Something was definitely wrong.

"When are you getting us out of here?" Fern whispered eventually, the unfamiliar sound of a child's whine evident in her voice. Patsy felt the noise like a punch in the gut and scrabbled for an answer good enough.

"Soon. Soon Fern I promise. I've got a plan and I think it might work. Are you still willing to give evidence that the house is dangerous?"

Fern gave a wet snort.

"Oh yes. I think I can manage that." She said witheringly and Patsys chest tensed perceptibly. Something was wrong.

"What's happened? You sound frightened, has Mick done something to you? Seppie?" The possibilities were vast and unending. Patsy cursed her imagination.

"Seppies fine.' Fern assured immediately reading Patsys fears, 'we both are."

"Then... I don't know what say kid.' Patsy struggled with herself, trying not to show her confusion or worry, 'I don't believe you, why did you ring me?"

"I just... wanted to hear your voice. Is... is that okay?" Fern mumbled thickly after only a moments hesitation and Patsys chest tightened even more while her hands ached to hold the girl as close as she could. Until everything was better.

"You got me kid. I'm here for that, of course it's okay. We can stay on the phone as long as you want alright. I'll be right here." Patsy should be there. She should be stronger, should be better.

"Thanks.' Fern said wetly 'it just gets on top of me sometimes... Sorry."

"Don't apologise.' Patsy said gently, 'I get it. I'm here for you, I meant what I said." 

"I hate Allie. I hate her." Fern broke the silence suddenly, the venom and the tears sharp as knives. Patsy slouched into the sofa tiredly as she took it all in and pushed down a sigh of relief. Was this what the call was about? A mother daughter spat? While she couldn't really offer much advice on that subject she could at least comfort herself that it wasn't uncommon a thing to happen in a teenagers life.

"Have you argued?" Patsy asked soothingly, comforted and taking the grumble from Fern as an affirmative. 

"I hate her." Fern repeated again still angry and Patsy bit her lip, not willing to talk badly about Allie to Fern. It was wrong.

"She's your mother." Patsy stated calmly.

"I don't care! I hate her! I hate Mick, I hate my whole stupid life!"

"That's understandable sweetheart. It really is but-" Patsy began reasonably thinking she could defuse teenage angst without too much difficulty. Perhaps suggest a good walk or something.

"I hope she dies." Fern interrupted Patsy savagely, venom and meaning dripping from the four big words.

Ice. Cold, numb ice spread from Patsys fingertips down to her toes as she saw her mothers corpse. Smelt smoke. Chastity-

"Don't say that." Patsy breathed hoarsely, needing Fern to understand that some things could not be taken back. 'Don't ever say things like that!"

"Why not? It's the truth.' Fern defended shrilly. 'She doesn't give a damn about either of us! She's home right now off her face on whatever crap Micks selling. Seppie went right up to her looking for a cuddle this morning and she didn't even blink. She didn't bat an eyelid Pats. It's like she didn't remember her own daughter. She never cried when they took any of the other kids either you know. Probably won't cry when we go. She doesn't give a rats arse about any of us, she never has. Why shouldn't I hate her?" Fern was tearful again and Patsy wavered where she sat, recognising all of it; every aching jumble of feeling Fern was experiencing. Most people thought fists did the worse damage but they were wrong; neglect left the biggest gaps. In a way she pitied Fern far more than she did Seppie on that score. Fern was old enough to know just how wrong everything was. Knowledge was always pain in these situations.

"Some things are better left unsaid. That's all I'll say Fern. I know it's hard, I know you're hurting and she's causing that hurt but wishing anyone dead is a terribly final thing. You can't always take it back.' Patsy searched for a distraction to her own memories more than Ferns. 'Look... Allies taking drugs? She doesn't do that normally." It was true too. Allie might do the odd line but as far as Patsy was aware Mick was the main drug problem. Allie was fucked up in her own special way outside of that.

"Yeah well she's in the mood to lower her standards apparently." Fern grumbled still mad.

"I thought Mick wasn't selling?' Patsy asked and Fern sniffed darkly again. 'Somethings changed there I take it." Patsy finished glumly over the girls impatient huffs.

"Yeah they've changed alright' Fern said darkly, 'since last night." Fern became vaguely disinterested at this point, Patsy could tell she was too wrapped up in her justified anger but Patsy wanted to roll her eyes at Ferns lack of insight. Big picture and all that.

"Why? What happened last night?" Patsy probed. 

There was a long, saturated, heavy answering pause where Fern seemed to freeze which simply told Patsy she'd asked the correct question.

"Nothing." Fern said eventually with forced nonchalance, sounding suddenly far too reluctant to speak, as though she'd realised she'd said the wrong thing too late and regretted her earlier comments.

"Fern." Patsy remonstrated gently.

"Nothing happened alright. That man from before was back around here that's all. I don't want to talk about it." Fern spoke quickly as though hoping Patsy would change the subject if she breezed through her answer fast enough. 

Unfortunately for Fern, there were only two hopes to be found at this moment that Patsy might drop this chain of conversation now; bob and no to be precise. Patsy had been a cop too long and something was wrong. 

"To see Mick about dealing?" Patsy went on resolutely thinking of Dyer as her fist curled in her lap, unmoved by Ferns disgruntled sigh through the phone. 

"Suppose.' Fern mumbled. 'Didn't hear much of it, we got told to sit in our room like always. Allie doesn't want us around. She always wants us from under her feet."

But that wasn't right, Patsy privately disagreed, though she did not bother to try and change Ferns mind at the moment knowing it wouldn't work. Allie was protecting her children in the only way she could. Poor protection though it may be there was something about closing a door that would seem safe to someone like Allie. A line in the sand. 

Until someone opened it again of course.

"And what did the man say? Did he come near you two?" Patsy continued, still half thinking of Allie.

"Not really." Fern sounded really uncomfortable now, almost guilty and every spidey sense Patsy possessed tingled in unison. Dyers fists pummelling her face flashed before her eyes. A desperate man could do almost anything...

Did he know about Patsy and the kids?

"Right. No more games. Now tell me what you're not telling me Fern." Patsy said firmly, her jaw ached when she clenched it from the ghost of pain and she felt her knees bend just a little as though she was preparing to jump from a great height. Poised.

"There's nothing to tell, honestly, you wouldn't be interested." Fern evaded with too much guilt, too much reluctance to be credible. Patsys blood gushed to her finger tips, a pulse beat in her throat.

If Dyer had touched either one of those children she would kill him. She would destroy him. She would carve out a place in hell for them both and send him there first to wait. Patsy would not allow another death because she was not strong enough. Those girls were hers. Her responsibility.

But she couldn't scare Fern; Fern thought she was calmer than this.

"Try me." Was the best Patsy could manage, her voice suddenly constrained.

"There's nothing to tell." Fern repeated, her voice hushed and Patsy wouldn't have believed the girl if she'd said it a hundred times. Patsy knew when people were lying.

"Fern... I'm here for you sweetheart but I can't help if I don't know. If... If somethings happened to you I want to know.' Awful memories flashed up unbidden and unwanted; there were so many things you could do to a child. 'You're my business now kid, I told you. We're in this together. I'll be there any time you need me but you have to tell me what's wrong. I won't be angry, I won't lecture you but I'll know and then I'll do whatever I can for you. I promised you Fern; you and Seppie, I'm your person, okay?"

There was a long drawn out pause again and Patsy heard a staccato tap tap as Fern bit her nails through the microphone while she sat tensely miles away willing her imagination to switch off. The memories made her anxiety sky rocket, paranoia was a friend she didn't need. Somehow Patsy waited patiently, she would wait as long as she needed to for Fern. For Fern and Seppie she would be better than she was.

"He didn't come alone this time... He came with someone else. Someone new, I've not seen him before." Fern said eventually still shifty and hesitant and Patsys fingers tightened on the phone certain she was closer to the problem. Him?

"Okay... And what did this other person do?"

"Nothing, nothing important with the drugs, that was the thing. Honestly Pats, if there was something to help your case I'd have rung straight away." Ferns plea did nothing to assuage Patsys concern.

"The case is just that kid. It's a case. You two I can't replace. Now, what aren't you telling me?"

They were getting close to it now, Patsy could tell by the length of the pauses. Like poison drawing out from a wound with just the right amount of pressure. 

"He... He left Mick and the guy talking in the living room and... he came into my bedroom." Ferns voice was fast and low. Still trying to avoid Patsys question.

Patsy felt her stomach flip. It was like taking a step you think should be there and finding empty air. She must not panic.

"Your bedroom? What did he want in your bedroom Fern?" Patsy said with forced casualness she thought might kill her to get out. She would kill Dyer. She would kill him. She would kill him with her bare hands.

"Just to talk he said.' Fern muttered. 'I didn't know how to tell him he couldn't come in it was like he owned the place or something."

"I understand' Patsy closed her eyes, the light from the window was too bright all of a sudden as her stomach clenched, 'you couldn't do anything about it. What did he do?" 

"He was weird.' Fern said sounding uneasy. 'It seemed like he didn't even care about the dealer stuff you know? He must be involved but they didn't call him back or anything. Allie was scared of him I think, she came to the door and when she saw him in my room she sort of froze and walked back into the living room like she hadn't seen it."

The pulse beat in Patsys throat had risen to her temples. The vein throbbed like it was about to burst. The problem with Allie was not her situation or her inadequacies as a mother but the bleak certain fact that Allie would walk always away at times when hope fled, she'd been beaten down so low throughout her miserable existence that she couldn't see sky anymore; as Patsy recalled her first baby had been at thirteen. There hadn't been a father on the birth certificate.

"She shouldn't have done that.' Patsy said to the world in general. 'She should have done something else but... What did this man do?"

"Gave Seppie some sweets, asked about me, what I do for Mick and school and stuff and then' Fern paused here, just preparing for whatever she had left to say and Patsy squeezed her eyes tighter shut trying to ignore her imagination to focus on reality. Reality was solid. 'Pats, he asked me about you." Fern said the last part very quietly as though hoping Patsy might not hear her. Guilt tinged every word and Patsy sagged, her chest seeming to fall out. She didn't have lungs to breathe but somehow she had to keep talking.

"It's alright sweetheart. Just tell me, what did he say?" If this was only about her Patsy could live with it. As long as they girls were safe.

"Bunch of crazy stuff really, kept asking me if I believed in God.' Fern broke the tension abruptly as she snorted derisively, 'kept trying to get Seppie to sit on his lap but she wouldn't. Said she could pray with him if she liked. I told him off because he kept touching her ears; said he wanted to heal them. It was crazy Pats. Well, when I pulled her away Seppie walked over to the window. She didn't like him and I think he knew it wasn't going well or the way he wanted it to... so then he started getting angry, not shouting or anything just really still and staring, like we weren't doing things right or reacting how he wanted us to but he didn't hit us.' Fern added sincerely, innocently certain that bruises were the worst thing that could possibly happen. 'I swear he never laid a finger on us Pats. But... I don't know, he was scary. It was like he thought we were all supposed to be friends or something."

"Would you recognise him if you saw him again?" Patsy asked sharply, thinking she could ask Chummy to set up a meeting with one of the police artists, run the picture through home indexing.

"Oh yeah.' Ferns voice became slightly awed as she recalled only something she could see and the jarring sound of almost appreciation from Fern scared Patsy far more than anything else she'd heard yet.

"Go on." Patsy prompted when Fern seemed unlikely to carry on any further. Fern sighed in response.

"Well he was just... Gorgeous Pats. I don't know how to describe him. Like a guy in an old film or something even if he was older, he had one of those designer beard things. Asked me if I wanted to touch it."

"You didn't?" Patsy asked crisply and was relieved when Fern snorted again.

"Please. What do you take me for?"

"And then he asked about me?" Patsy went on flatly, needles of disgust pricking her scalp, willing the fear not to block out reason. She had to stay calm right now... but it was so damn hard.

"Yeah...' Fern had gone back to edgy, nervous as though scared Patsy would shout at her and Patsy wished she could get up and find her. Hug all this crap away. 'Pats I didn't want to tell him anything, I swear, I didn't want to- he tricked me."

"Shhh,' Patsy sounded calm. It didn't matter that she wasn't calm inside, she'd deal with that later, Fern was the centre of her world right now and she couldn't be distracted. 'It's okay I quite understand, these things happen sweetheart. You have done nothing wrong. I'm not angry at you I promise, I just need to know, go on, let's sort this out."

"He said... He said he knew you when you were little, said he'd heard you were still in town and-" Fern hesitated again sounding wretched as though confessing a great sin.

"It's alright Fern. I'm not angry at you." Patsy repeated soothingly, wishing she was well enough to find Dyer and put an end to this. Fern was biting her nails again.

"Oh Pats.' Fern breathed wretchedly, her voice barely a whisper and Patsy felt her eyes burn with surprise tears in response. 'He started asking if I saw you much outside of the flat, asked about if we'd ever met up with you in the park and then... Well, it was like he was reading my mind. I said I only knew you when you came round to see Mick but he confused me. He said he'd been around when your mum died and he must have read something in my face when he said it because all of a sudden he was opening up all the drawers looking for something." 

Patsys hand not holding the phone was trembling so much her whole arm was jerking. She clenched it into a tight fist but it still bounced on her lap, punching her thigh like it had a mind of its own.

"Did he find what he was looking for?" She asked through clenched teeth and Fern coughed thickly.

"No. I think he was looking for my phone but I keep it in my bra. Even when I sleep. I'm not letting anyone have it. After a while he sort of realised he wouldn't get what he wanted so he stopped and he looked at me really strangely, like I was meat or something and he told me that I must pass on his regards next time I spoke to you." Ferns voice was truly frightened and Patsy closed her eyes waiting for the hammer blow.

"Tell me." Patsy said resignedly.

"He said... some stuff I didn't really understand. He kept talking about wages, was going on and on about it, saying how he was here to pay your wages or something... He said I should tell you that he's been thinking about you for a long time and that he hasn't forgotten anything. He's looking forward to hearing all about you growing up; wants to hear the whole story. He's looking forward to your reunion and ... I'm sorry Pats. I did something bad didn't I?" Fern finished sounding like she wanted to cry, her whisper a plea for forgiveness so honest that it roused Patsy enough to open her eyes again and square her shoulders. Meeting the day.

"Did he tell you his name?" Patsy asked dully, it was a hollow, dead question she didn't need answering really. She already knew.

"Abraham. He said we could call him grandad Abe if we wanted to. Pats are you angry at me? I'm so sorry."

This was never going to end. Just a horror story stretching out until... The end?

"You have nothing to be sorry about.' Patsy said forcefully, needing Fern to know this simple fact. The only person to blame was her; careless, selfish. She shouldn't have ever allowed those children near her. 'You did the right thing, you make me so proud kid, you did what you had to and I'm just glad you're okay. That's the only thing that matters to me in all of this.' Patsy pressed her fingers to her temple, forcing the headache that was building away as she expelled a heavy breath. 

'That man' monster Patsys inner voice corrected in a hiss, 'is very dangerous. Listen to me closely now Fern because I need you to understand and do exactly as I say.' Patsy felt her vision tinge red at the edges but pushed it away with effort. She would think now. She was not a child now. She had damned responsibilities, she couldn't fall apart. 'If he ever comes to the flat again I want you to take Seppie and leave, get out of the flat anyway that you can. Immediately. Don't talk to him, don't follow him anywhere, don't let him anywhere near you. Don't accept anything to eat from him, you said he gave Seppie sweets?" Fear cut through the simmering rage. Seppie was just a baby really, not much younger than Chas had been when-

"Yeah, she had a few but they tasted all mouldy so she spat them out. He left the bag though; said we should enjoy." Fern said it nervously and Patsys chest tightened a few more inches.

"Find them, all of them and flush them down the toilet.' Patsy said in a bleak voice that didn't seem to belong to her. 'Are you absolutely sure Seppie didn't eat any? What's she been like since?" 

Bang bang bang went little Stevens head on the floor. Patsy could hear it like he was still in the room with her. Any room, any time, they all were.

"She's fine Pats honestly,' Fern was trying to be reassuring now and it made Patsys lips wobble. Fifteen was too young for this kind of trouble. Then again she was 28 and didn't much feel old enough for it either. 'She didn't like the taste and you know our Seppie; she knows her own mind. She's absolutely fine I promise."

"Well... If he ever comes back you're to call me immediately, that's important, you take your sister and yourself somewhere safe and you ring me."

"What if I can't get out? Mick, he locks the door or bars the way sometimes." Fern sounded truly scared now and Patsy felt sick at putting the girl through this.

"Then you hide somewhere and you ring me. Where could you go?"

"Umm, I don't know.' Fern paused, obviously racking her brains, 'Seppie hides behind the sofa sometimes, I hollowed out the back for her so she could get away if she needed to. She'd be able to fit in there still and you can't tell unless you sit down and feel the bulge under the cushions but... I guess if she lay flat no one would know."

"Does Mick know about it?" Patsy asked tersely and Fern laughed bitterly.

"Mick doesn't even know Seppies around when she's sitting in front of him."

"And you? Where could you hide?" 

"There's an outside ledge on our window. If I shut the window and sit near the end no one would know I was there from the room."

"There's nowhere else? That doesn't sound safe." Patsy said doubtfully.

"Relax, I've done it loads of times."

"I'd prefer it if you just got out of there all together."

"I know... Pats, have I messed it all up? Do you still want us to live with you?" Only the doubt and fear could spin Patsys thoughts back to the present. She felt her heart bleed.

"Of course I do, in fact, give me until tomorrow to sort it and I'll come and get you and Seppie. You're staying at mine; kid I don't have much and it'll be a squeeze but we'll sort it I promise. I think between us we can argue a case for imminent danger and besides I can call it police protection in the short term. I don't think we can wait for the social anymore." Fuck Susan the social worker and fuck Allie and Mick. There wasn't the time to worry about courts now. Not if Abraham suspected how much Fern and Seppie mattered to her.

"You really mean it? Pats are you being serious?" Ferns voice was so obviously ecstatic Patsy couldn't help but smile though it probably looked wrong from the outside. She felt like she was having a stroke. 

"Yeah, I mean it. I don't know about you but I've had enough.' Understatement. 'I need to sort things out my end.' Another understatement. She needed to get her car, work out how she would say goodbye to Delia... 'Don't tell Seppie until just before okay and not a word to anyone else either. I want this nice and quiet, can you manage that?"

"Yeah, I- You don't know what this means to me Pats." Fern sounded like she was about to cry again but Patsy forestalled her. They could cry when they had time.

"I think I might. I made a promise, I'm not going to be perfect but I'll keep you safe and remember; if Abraham turns up again I want to know."

"Get out, hide, call you.' Fern recited dutifully and Patsy could only hope the girl understood the importance of that statement.

"Good. Be safe Fern." The words seemed to dry Patsys mouth, she felt emptied of something and Fern sounded just as wiped out when she replied with a muted 'I promise.' 

When the call ended Patsy realised that her left arm was still shaking against her leg and she forced herself to stop bit by bit. Her fist was clenched so tightly she'd left crescent indentations on her palm. Her brain was awash with one looming word as panic filled her faster than helium in a sad balloon.

Fuck!

He was there. Abraham. It honestly was real and he knew about the kids. Somehow. Somehow he fucking knew about the girls. About Patsy. How?

Patsy stared around bemused feeling as though she had never seen everything in front of her properly before. Colour? Was it supposed to be this colourful? The smell of the varnish in the coffee table wafted over as her senses seemed to stretch, soaking up the life she had left.

She had caused this danger just by existing. The sensation of being unclean, sullied, spoiled stole over her, smothered every noble instinct she possessed but she tried to push through the building haze. Trying to shake off the urge to curl into a ball and fall apart she jumped up from the yielding comfort of the sofa and paced restlessly back into the kitchen only to find the yellow painted wall with its cheery message waiting for her. 

The happiness that had filled her only short minutes before had dredged from the gesture now though as Patsy glared at it. Disgusted with herself. Her limbs seeming to belong to someone else. She slapped them a few times against her sides just to know they still belonged to her.

Fuck!

What the fuck was she going to do?

Chastity had been about Seppies age when she'd died. Abraham must know that. Must know how bad that would torment her. Always playing his messed up games even now after all this time.

Fuck! What the fuck was she going to do?

How had he even found out? Who had told him? Dyer? Had he been watching her this whole time? And if he had. If he had been watching and plotting then he most certainly knew where she was right now. That meant Delia wasn't safe either. Would anyone ever be safe after this? Patsy knew she should go, she should leave immediately, run from this house and never come back. 

The image of Delia in Chummys mortuary fluttered through her head and she felt her stomach coil in readiness to retch.

The walls were closing in and she was drowning. She had to escape. Had to run until she couldn't run anymore.

So strong was this urge in fact that she almost did just that; spinning stupidly on the spot, her muscles taught as she screamed in her head. Abraham had been in Ferns bedroom. Close enough to snuff both girls life out in one move.

But he hadn't done that. No. He'd sent his message through Fern instead. Message and threat. Fuck! 

Patsy crouched down as her breathing turned shallow, pressing her knees into her chest and rocking agitatedly as she desperately pushed against the instinct to panic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

It took long stretches of control, seizing small fistfuls of sense as she clung to the floor. Think. She must think. Abrahams message had had a purpose and if she reacted too quickly then that would surely be playing into his hands. She was not Patience. She was not a child. She must think. Thinking and planning. It hurt to push through the throng of imagined horrors but she could. She would. For the kids, for Delia.

What to do? What to do first?

She couldn't stay here much longer, that much was inescapable. The safety net of Delias hold was as false a safety net as Allies door. Her continued presence would leave Delia in danger... So the obvious solution was to leave. Walk out the door right this minute. Patsy imagined Delia returning home to find it empty. What would she do?

Patsy cursed as she paced across the room. She'd look for Patsy almost certainly and with the slim chance Abraham didn't know where Patsy was right now Delias search would draw undoubted attention to her. So... Patsy would stay just long enough to say goodbye then. They could part on their own terms and Delia could forget her.

Which hurt more than it should.

Then? Then she needed to get the kids. Car. She needed the jeep. Then Helen. Helen would know how to help, what to buy to keep the kids going. But should she not simply run? She could throw both girls in the car and drive until they lost the road. Until they found somewhere Abraham wouldn't find them but... Where would that be? Did that place really exist?

Abraham would almost certainly find her wherever she went and then... A wave of hopelessness surged over, choked the intention to run and she dropped to her knees again. Willing herself not to shatter. 

What the fuck could she do?

She could ring Sue when she had the girls. Try and explain Abraham but she could imagine how that conversation would go?

'A convict who raised me in a cult is plotting to kill me and the kids.'

Not only would the girls be taken into care for sure they'd be split up. Fern would never forgive such a betrayal and Patsy would still probably die. Abraham was coming for her. She needed help. She needed someone she did not have to explain everything too. She needed someone who loved her without question.

She needed Helen.

Sweating, she reached for her phone again and scrolled through her contacts until she reached Helens name. Listening to the dial tone like it was the only real thing around her.

It went to answer phone again, the cheerful but efficient voicemail did nothing to calm Patsys nerves.

"Helen, something's happened. I really need you right now... Call me when your free okay?" 

Ending the call was harder than it should have been. Patsy wondered where Helen could be right now not to answer her call and could only suppose she'd finally bitten the bullet with Phyllis or work had needed her. She was usually around on a Saturday. She'd have to try again later, the phone was probably sitting on silent at the bottom of the older womans bag.

With Helen out of reach, her car keys MIA, Delia due home at any minute and no good reason to leave immediately Patsy managed to calm down her breathing.

She would say goodbye to Delia, leave and go home. But once home what could she really do? Just pace until the morning. It would be useless grabbing the girls this late in the day, Allie would be there and Mick. If they did it in the morning Fern could say she was going for a walk or something, that might give them all a bit of time.

Now all she could do was wait... Which was always the hardest bit to any plan. Patsy cast her gaze around the room searching desperately for something to do. A distraction, The yellow wall still needed to be finished and it was better than hyperventilating on the floor but as Patsy sighed and picked up the brush again the happiness had gone from the task.

She was going to disappoint Delia now. That lone, selfish thought distracted her. She wished again that she was someone, anybody else right now. Someone else who could stay and spend the evening in the safe knowledge that there were possibilities there. Some kind of hope.

But she wasn't someone else and there was no hope really and she needed to leave.

Once the wall was finished and Patsy was pacing back and forth inspecting every inch for imperfections she checked the clock on the opposite wall. Six. Delia surely couldn't be much longer. Nodding grimly at her achievement, the hopes for its response dwindling. Patsy cleaned of the brushes and swept the tin of paint back into its cupboard, it was significantly lighter.

Delias preferred drink after work was a cup of tea and Patsy flicked on the kettle in readiness before rushing up stairs trying to think of anything else she could do to make what was coming easier. To show rather than tell what she felt even as she walked away. 

A bath? Delia might appreciate that. Patsy spent five minutes confusedly rifling through the wicker basket beneath the sink and chose a bubble bath with the poshest label. There was a surprising amount; Delia clearly liked a bath. Or Jessie.

A kernel of jealousy rammed through her at what might happen once she'd left. Jessie would still be here, still able to offer what Patsy could not. Even if it was a poor mans version of love.

She decided against going whole hog and lighting candles. Too romantic and this wasn't about that she told herself firmly. This was a gesture of thanks anyone might give.

Anyone? An honest inner voice persisted as she swirled the tips of her fingers in the foamy surface of the bath while the water ran. Has anyone ever done anything like this for you? Friend or not?

Patsy ignored herself as she heard the front door open and the click of Delias shoes on the hallway floor. 

"Pats?" Delias voice sounded weary and Patsy envisioned her shrugging off her coat and shoes. The call was one of domesticity and Patsy felt a pang for what might have been. She liked the feeling and it hurt to know it would not happen again.

"I'm upstairs, be down in a minute. I've got something to show you." Patsy couldn't keep the cautious expectations out of her voice; wanting to see Delias reaction. Wanting to have a moment of pleasure before the pain.

Surely that wasn't too much to ask of today?

Delias voice was fainter as she made her way towards the kitchen.

"Something to show me?" Delia called out wearily.

Patsy, unable to stop the energy running up and down her spine, decided the bath was plenty full and twisted off the taps, wiped her damp hands on her front and scuttled down stairs.

Delia had already entered the kitchen, there was a plastic shopping bag by the door with the glassy neck of a wine bottle poking out, her work bag was still slumped on her shoulder as she stared at the yellow wall in obvious surprise. Patsy lurked by the door, trying to gauge Delias response. She wasn't talking.

For good or ill by the look of it.

Patsy chewed the corner of her thumbnail as a wave of anxiety hit her. All of a sudden she imagined how she might feel at this gesture; she'd altered the woman's home without permission or indication. 

"You... decorated?" Delia said sounding confused. Patsys cheeks burned and her innards squelched with suddenly considered embarrassment as she saw the situation from Delias perspective.

Bit presumptuous really.

"I... Yeah. I saw the paint under the sink. You said you wanted to paint the wall didn't you? At Trixies I mean?" Oh God if she'd read this wrong then that would just be the questionable icing on the shit cake of a day. Delia was still standing with her back to Patsy apparently entranced by her new wall.

"I did.' Delia said in a bemused voice finally turning to look at Patsy her eyes warm. 'But... Why would you do this for me?" She didn't sound upset so much as surprised at the unexpected work and Patsy let out a sort of half shrug privately pleased she hadn't offended. 

"I wanted to say thank you... And goodbye. You've been so wonderful it was the least I could do. I know there's not much I could do to repay everything really."

Delia cocked her head her mouth twisting into a curious smile until her eyes landed on Patsy and took in her clothes. A line cut into her forehead as she frowned.

"Goodbye? The least you can do? Pats. You don't have anything to repay me and besides you're not completely better yet... those stitches will have to come out."

"Oh,' Patsy reached to press gingerly at the line of thread above her brow and gave another shrug, 'that's fine, I can take them out or,' she changed direction quickly at the sudden introduction of Delias impatiently tapping foot, 'get Trixie to do it. It's no problem, I've been in a few scrapes before now."

"I'm sure you have." Delia said, walking over to pick up her carrier bag not meeting Patsys eye.

Patsy hovered uncertainly as Delia carried her shopping to the side and dropped it on the counter. The bottle made a dull thunk as it righted itself and the noise cut through Patsys nerves.

"You bought wine?" Patsy asked Delias back, disliking the fact she couldn't read her expression.

"I thought...' Delia began in a tone that seemed strained to Patsys ears, 'I thought since you got dinner last night... And what we said this morning that I'd get a bottle in and then... well, it'll save anyway." She finished with a sigh, pulling out the contents of the bag and hastily shoving them into the nearest cupboard.

Patsy didn't really know what to say to that.

"That was really thoughtful." Was about all Patsy could think of. It was. Patsy wanted very much to drink wine and sit with Delia for a very long time. The idea brought a lump to her throat and maybe Delia heard it. Delias shoulders lifted slightly as though she were bracing for something but when she turned a moment later her face was resolute and unusually neutral. 

"You're going. Aren't you?" Delia said without any inflection. She sounded neither upset nor glad and Patsy felt as though she'd stumbled into a play without being told her lines. She gave a dry, fake cough and ducked her head apologetically.

"I thought that might be a good idea. Yeah." Patsy muttered awkwardly as Delia narrowed her eyes.

"You didn't want to go earlier. Has something happened?" Delia churned out looking suspicious.

"No.' Patsy lied quickly. Too quickly, from Delias frown it was clear she didn't believe her. 'I just have a few things to sort out and... well, I can't keep wasting time holed up here can I?" 

The hasty add on was a mistake, Patsy could tell the moment she said it. Thoughtless. Delias neck straightened so fast it must have hurt, the fleeting warmth from her face ebbed away like water tumbling down an open drain. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and chewed her lip.

"Well, I didn't realise I was keeping you from so much." She said brittle as a twig in sun.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just... Look, why would you want me here anyway?" If she was leaving then she could afford a touch of bravery couldn't she? Stupid question though since she was going anyway. She should get home. It wasn't safe.

"Reasons I was alone in apparently." Delia said curtly, releasing her arms and rubbing her hip without apparently thinking about it. Patsy was messing this up she knew it and she hated that she didn't have any fix for it... But she wanted to fix it anyway.

Stupid and reckless and so so selfish.

"I don't have to go straight away. We could still eat?" Patsy offered hopefully staring across the room, hand in her pocket to hide the nervous twitching of her fingers.

There is such a thing as an 'old' look. The one Delia spared Patsy was so old it gave off an aura of fleecy coats with animals lolloping around the hem and dry calls to look at pictures of grandchildren. Patsy gulped.

"I made you dinner?" Patsy continued questioningly; still unnerved by the sudden chill in the room. From Delia who was an anchor in the madness.

"And then what? You'll be on your way?" Delia said flatly. 

"Well... I thought I might... yeah." Patsy said weakly into the widening chasm that had sprung between them. What could she say? How could she explain to Delia without explaining everything?

The pot on the stove bubbled sickly thick and all of a sudden Patsy wished she'd picked something light instead, her stomach was pretty full at the minute and she didn't quite have the time to pick apart why.

"Then we should just eat. I'm sure you've got things you need to do. You're a busy woman after all." Delia said in a loud, colourless voice stepping to the nearest cupboard and drawing out bowls with more force than necessary.

Patsy hovered, her role negated by Delias silent labours on their meal. She briefly considered mentioning that she'd run Delia a bath but disregarded this hastily when Delia turned to her with a bowl in each hand.

The steam didn't seem to be coming out of just the bowl. Patsy took it meekly as it was passed to her and sat at the breakfast bar without comment.

Somehow she'd messed up and she was at a loss to fix it and she still needed to go but... What could she really do until tomorrow anyway?

They ate in silence. Patsy kept trying to find some kind of phrase to bridge the gap but Delia looked so distant even though she sat a mere few inches away that she didn't dare. She'd just say the wrong thing anyway. The stew wasn't nearly as appetising as Patsy had hoped for and neither of them finished their bowls in the end.

Patsy almost managed to muster her courage to say something when she dropped her spoon into the bowl but before she could Delia jumped up and tugged both bowls away. Stalked away to the sink without looking at Patsy. Patsy gulped as the crockery and bowls were dumped in the sink and the tap was turned on. Delia didn't tell her to leave but the continued silence implied that Patsy could do it and nothing more would be said... If she really wanted to. Delia wouldn't demand she stay.

Patsy really should go.

But... She couldn't leave like this. Not with this cold, unfriendly feeling in the air. It wasn't them. Or, at least, Patsy would not allow herself to believe it was them. Delia was safe and warm and she meant something.

Patsy stared at the doorway leading out into the hall and the front door and Abraham and the kids and death probably and made a split decision. She could have one more night of peace. Tomorrow she'd pick up the kids and that would be that but tonight was no ones property. Except maybe theirs.

Delia still stood ramrod straight at the sink, the chink of the spoons against the washing up bowl sounded laughingly as she scrubbed heavily at them with the washing pad. She didn't say anything when Patsy walked over and, to both their surprise, wrapped her arms around Delias waist from behind pulling her closer. She didn't pull away but she did stiffen slightly.

"I thought you said you were leaving? What were you waiting for, my permission?" Delia grumbled mulishly to the washing up.

Patsy closed her eyes and rested the space between her eyes against the top of Delias head. Her hair smelled like hospitals and antiseptic with the barest hint of shampoo underpinning it. Patsy wanted to stay here like this for a long time but Delia had asked a question and Patsy would be an idiot not to answer.

"I changed my mind... Besides, you and I already made arrangements."

"What about your other business?" Delia asked a little unsteadily. The bowls clinked again as she released them into the water to grip the edge of the sink. Small droplets fell from her finger tips down the wooden cabinet beneath but she didn't seem to notice. Patsy felt sure that right at this moment if she kissed Delia then Delia would turn around and kiss her right back.

And then what?

Patsy would still need to leave and Delia would still want her to stay somehow.

Patsy released the woman regretfully and took a forceful step back offering a tight smile that she couldn't make reach her eyes.

"It can wait one more night, I'll go in the morning. Wouldn't want good wine going to waste on my behalf." Patsy had struck for airy and just about managed it while the front of her body cooled in the places it had rested against Delias back. She shivered, too cold.

Delia turned around, her elbow edging into the corner of the drying board, she was very pale and it made her seem older. From Patsys perspective Delia seemed to be making a decision, her eyes taking in Patsys face with cryptic severity before capitulating into a resigned shake of her head.

"You found your clothes?" Delia said with a sigh, calling the necessary cease fire for the moment, her fingers reaching to pluck at Patsys shirt and Patsy fought the urge to step forward again.

"I missed warm calves." 

"Hmm' Delia dropped the shirt and raised a hand to tap at Patsys cheek. Just a prompt perhaps, 'you have a look in your eyes when you lie. Did you know that?" She said with a shrewd head nod.

Patsy felt the place Delia had touched burn and ached to lean forward a little more. What would Delia taste like?

"No, I didn't." Patsys lips felt very dry, her shirt too tight. Delias fingers were warm spots of heaviness on her face and she wanted for once to be held. To be found and not discarded. Delia continued to stare at her sadly, her hands didn't move from their place.

"If I ask you what your planning to do tomorrow that's so important... Will you lie to me?" Delias eyes were boring holes into Patsys face as though she saw something no one else could and Patsy wanted so many things.

"Yes.' Patsy whispered, 'I will."

Delia scrutinised Patsy only a moment longer, a thumb rubbed the point of Patsys chin so fleetingly it might not be real and then she was gone. Her eyes were dark again, a sort of hunger Patsy hadn't seen yet sat there watching her and Patsy wanted it. Wanted to see it again and- But the moment was gone. Delia pulled away sharply without saying one more word, turning again to flick off the tap so that her face was hidden for a moment.

"We could watch a film again then?" Delia said in an all together different voice, the subject apparently being dropped for now. She'd evidently taken up the old standby of cheery Delia and it's appearance was jarring, it didn't fit and yet it was completely predictable, she seemed to have decided to play normal and Patsy after a brief pause let herself fall into the lie. Pretending was what she did best after all and if it was what Delia wanted...

"Shame to waste the wine." Patsy supplied on cue because it was so clearly what Delia wanted; wishing with every fibre of her being that she was someone else.

"I did buy wine." Delia agreed lightly like they hadn't said anything of great importance, her dimples didn't show when she smiled now though and Patsy knew it was forced.

They drank the wine in cups too small for all the drinking they both wanted to do. Delia made a show of carrying her school bag into the living room as Patsy drew the curtains knowing this was all probably a big mistake but wanting... Stupid things always. When Patsy turned Delia was pulling books out of her bag as though she planned to work; Patsy cut across this particular charade with a firm tug on Delias wrist.

"Just sit with me won't you?" 

Delia didn't put up much of a fight after that and they turned on the television sipping their wine awkwardly knowing they weren't saying the things they needed to and neither one prepared to start it. Patsy didn't watch a great deal of what was on the television, her mind whirring off into memories and worries but she took pains to ensure that her eyes didn't leave the screen. After twenty minutes Delia shuffled closer and rested her head against her shoulder and Patsy didn't pull away. Knew she should but she didn't. She wasn't strong enough yet but tomorrow...

"Have you got any siblings?" Delia asked the question calmly, her eyes focused on the screen still, obviously prompted by something that had happened there. Patsy blinked and tried to work out what it was. Kids ran around on a green field. Patsy hadn't even realised they were there.

"I- Yeah' Patsy answered disconcerted. Immediately she was besieged with images of Chastity and a sinking, guilty weight grew in her chest as it always did. But it didn't last quite as long as usual with Delia so close. Not tonight.

"Oh." Delia looked like she wanted to ask the next obvious question but, in the wonderful way she always seemed to understand when a subject was best left, she didn't. She just watched Patsy with a soft sort of interest.

"What about you?' Patsy asked hurriedly just in case Delia decided to change her mind. Delia hadn't talked about her family, just home and Patsy hadn't asked because it would open up the possibility of Delia asking her own questions. It wasn't as though she'd have any more opportunities after tonight anyway. 

'I expect you've got a clan somewhere in the Welsh countryside all waiting to hear from you every hour of the day." Somehow, perhaps as a mark of respect for what she was to Patsy, Patsy managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She wasn't jealous of Delia per se; she just got uncomfortable asking about something she could never really understand. She'd never experienced that besides Helen. Patsy had Helen and was blessed for it but outside of that... And now she had the girls.

"Well I'm a twin' Delia answered offhandedly, 'but no other brothers and sisters. Mam said two was enough to be getting on with for her when we were little."

"A twin' Patsy repeated slightly bemused as she considered the rather attractive idea of two identical Delia Busbys and then forced her imagination to stop right there before the lesser part of her began envisioning all the non Disney ideas that those initial thoughts could inspire. 'I bet you were naughty in school. Did you use to swap seats in class for tests and stuff." There'd been a set of identical boys in the commune. Patsy had watched them die almost at exactly the same moment, their eerily balanced faces twisted up in synchronisation as they choked and writhed.

"No,' Delia said with a faint twitch in her lips like she was holding on to a funny joke, 'we'd never get away with that. Teachers somehow knew, especially when we hit puberty and Bernard grew a beard. That always seemed to give the game away slightly."

"Oh, not identical then?" Patsy said a little sadly as the daydreams she had definitely not been having shattered.

"No,' Delias tone gave the impression she'd read Patsys mind and found it amusing. 'Our noses are quite similar, same coloured eyes but we definitely had different coloured blankets in the maternity home. We used to joke he got the height and I got the girls. Don't ask me which one of us was the evil twin either, we always got that on buses and stuff growing up. No idea why; it was just one of those things old ladies used to ask."

"Okay,' Patsy said with a tired grin, 'I won't ask you that; I'll ask you something else you've probably been asked a million times. If one of you is hurt does the other one feel it?" She'd always wanted to know, the boys in the commune had faintly disturbed her growing up. They'd spoken even less than some of the others, somehow managing to convey their wants to one another without bothering everyone else. Cutting out the middle man so to speak. They'd survived a long time through that trait.

"Only my ribs from laughing if he hurt himself doing something stupid.' Delia said sweetly, her dimples appearing finally and melting Patsy a little more as they deepened while she folded her arms loosely and leaned a little closer to Patsy so that the cusp of her head rested more firmly on Patsys shoulder, apparently without realising. Or maybe she knew and just didn't care anymore.

"So where does Bernard live then? London?" Patsy asked with interest choosing to ignore the fact that Delia was leaning on her as though it was a normal thing for them. Ignoring all the wants.

Patsy had always been nosey, it was why she was good in CID after all but this was different somehow; she found herself genuinely interested in Delia. Wanted to know everything all at the same time in a hungry way that was pointless now. Everything was just so bloody pointless now.

"London? God no. Oh no no no.' Delia said in a singsong, choir girl sort of voice, 'Bernard was the good boy; he stayed in Pembrokeshire, lives five doors down from mam and dad, joined my dads firm at sixteen and is due to marry his childhood sweetheart next summer in the church my mam does the teas for on a Sunday."

"You don't get on?" Patsy surmised from the slightly petulant crease forming between Delias eyes, trying to work the woman out. To her surprise Delia frowned to look at her as though the question was slightly offensive.

"No, course we get on, he's my brother, it's just,' Delia sighed and rubbed at the spot where her glasses had left smooth red circles on her nose, 'he just makes me feel bad I suppose. He did everything mam always wanted me to do and I just hope he did it because he wanted to and not because I couldn't if you know what I mean. Mam would have crumbled if we'd both flown too far from the nest."

"Your mam doesn't like you being down here then?" Patsy said. Guessing again but correctly this time by the slight tightening of Delias lips.

"No one does guilt better than a Welsh mother with only one daughter Patsy." Delia said tiredly, slumping a little heavier on Patsys shoulder and looking so suddenly forlorn that Patsy couldn't resist raising her arm to rub at the soft skin peeking through the neck of Delias t-shirt. A touch was fine wasn't it? Something to take with her when she left.

Delia seemed to go rather stiff at the touch but she didn't shake Patsy off; instead she turned her head slightly to give more room which was all the permission Patsy required to stretch out her fingers and stroke a little more. Delias hair still smelled of antiseptic but it was fading now and the more pleasing hints of vanilla peeked through as the longest stray strands tickled the edge of Patsys chin. It all felt too normal, domestic almost Patsy thought uneasily. Nice though whispered a seldom heard back room voice in Patsys mind.

"How does your mam deal with you being..." Patsy was frowning as she tried to say what she wanted to without being offensive. Lesbian was such a harsh word sometimes. Delia didn't seem perturbed by the half finished question and gave a laconic chuckle.

"A raving player in the ancient card game of flats?" Delia finished for Patsy and Patsy choked back a gasp of shock, dropping her hand to sit up and laugh. It was amazing that she could still do that. That laugh was cathartic and Patsy wanted...

"The what game of what now?" She asked feeling her cheeks burn as she laughed. Delia was watching her looking serene.

"Now here's a turn up for the books, me shocking the unshockable Constable Mount. A timeless game I assure you officer; surprised you've never played it to be honest." Delia finished her statement with a wink and Patsy stared at her with her mouth open. 

"I've been known to play a few times' Patsy said weakly, unable to stop the cocky raise of an eyebrow that made Delias cheeks pink ever so interestingly rose, 'just never called it that. I wonder how good your poker face is miss Busby?"

"Good manners forbids me to answer Pats. I will tell you that I usually have a good hand though." Delia, to demonstrate the action, raised her arm palm up and spread her fingers wide, wiggling them slightly.

Patsy felt her legs tense at the movement and tried not to stare at Delias hands. This woman was dangerous. Very bloody dangerous. This all felt too good, to real and it scared Patsy more that it didn't scare her.

Delia waited while Patsy got her breath back with an air of satisfaction about her. After a few minutes of chuckling weakly Patsy once again leant back to sit in her seat as before and almost immediately Delia nudged her head onto Patsys shoulder like it was a space she'd staked out as her own. Like she owned it. Patsy noted with a little shiver of pleasure that the line of skin at Delias neck seemed a bit more open as though the top had been adjusted just a tiny amount and resumed her stroking. Delia didn't stiffen this time. Instead her eyes closed like a cat stretching and Patsy felt her mouth go dry at the sight.

"So... Your mam?" Patsy prompted in a slightly lower tone of voice. She didn't much care about the unknown mrs Busby she just wanted to keep talking, wanted to hear Delias voice and she saw Delias dimples flash even when she didn't open her eyes.

"Oh Mam,' Delia said with an airy wave of her hand as though the subject was inconsequential. 'She doesn't mind so much these days. I think she had to give in really; dad and Bernard were fully in my corner and she'd be the odd one out if she didn't accept it. I think it was harder than she lets on at first though. She approves of Jessie thoroughly, I think she tries to pretend I'm just with a pretty man most of the time. She still nags me about grandchildren when she gets the chance."

"She actually likes Jessie?" Patsy asked feeling the uneasy happiness that had been growing in her stomach burst like an overinflated balloon at the reality check; that Delia had her own complications. Delia must have heard it because she opened her eyes to peer at Patsy sadly.

"I'm not going to slate Jessie. She isn't completely bad, it wouldn't feel right." Delia said very quietly, her voice lightly stern and Patsy swallowed, the balloon was filling with concrete in her chest as she became more aware of her fingers on Delias skin and the shadows in the living room.

"And your dad? What's he like." Patsy went on as though she wasn't worrying about tilting at windmills. The question at least was something that interested her vaguely, she had never really known a father figure, had never known for sure who her father even was. She'd been born in the commune as had Chastity, there had been no birth certificate to answer her lingering doubts after 'the event' so to speak and her mother had never answered her question so her worries and her suspicions were just that she'd told herself in her darker moments. Suspicions. They weren't true for certain, they didn't count without black and white evidence. They simply didn't count. They didn't. They didn't. They didn't.

"Oh dad,' Delia said lazily, stretching her neck slightly more as Patsys found a tiny knot and kneaded it absentmindedly, 'he said he'd known since I was six and climbed trees bigger than any of the boys in the street. He doesn't mind as long as I'm happy."

"You're very lucky to have that you know." Patsy said with feeling. She couldn't help saying it; Delia was lucky. What Patsy wouldn't give for a bit of luck on her side of the fence. But luck was such a cheap thing to those that had it. Delia sighed and raised a hand to cover Patsys on her shoulder, stifling their movement.

"I know I am.' She said carefully, 'and I also know that sometimes others don't have that. It doesn't make them any less for it in my eyes you know." 

Delia was looking at her with a knowing gleam and Patsy felt her heart grow icy. She wanted to simultaneously stand up and tell the woman she didn't give a damn about how Delia saw the world and at the same time maybe cry a bit. She settled for a grimace and eye roll instead of either. The room seemed to have turned cold in one second.

"Should I come across someone like that I'll be sure to mention it to them then." She said stiffly, letting her hand drop from Delias shoulder quickly like it was burning.

Shouldn't have put it there in the first place, Patsy scolded herself. Stupid. Delia, sat straighter, giving Patsy a moment to compose herself looking far too understanding. It was maddening to Patsy who suddenly wished Delia would just go away.

"Did Fern ring you today?" Delia asked calmly, moving the conversation into supposedly less dangerous waters as Patsy picked at her nails, scowling, suddenly morose.

She shouldn't still be here. She should be back at home; getting things in order as much as they could be.

"No.' Patsy lied, 'the situations complicated though. I'll have to get some kind of lawyer I think, get approved as a foster parent. The job might help." Patsy would probably pick all her cuticles off by the time everything was over with the kids. If it ever ended with the kids.

Delia gave a sigh seemingly knowing Patsy had not told her everything.

"If you ever need a reference or anything." She offered vaguely in a weary voice and Patsy grunted, exasperated. There really was no end to this womans helpfulness was there? The nuns would have a new deity if Delia wasn't careful.

Saint Delia.

"I'll keep you in mind if the process ever requires a random woman I've shacked up with to give me a character report; there's a long list I could call up. Most wouldn't have much nice to say though. Mind you; I haven't fucked you over yet so it's probably in the post." Patsy said shortly.

There was an ugly, custard thick, ringing kind of silence. Delias cheeks slackened like she'd been slapped and she moved away curtly, her hand running to her hip again in that nervous habit she had. Patsy bit her lip.

Delia obviously had reached a point where she'd run out of safe topics to turn to as Patsy desperately tried to calm down her mind. She could not really explain to herself why Delia mentioning her past had irked her so much. It was a sore spot, a bruise not seen but often felt and she was behaving badly because it had been struck. Patsy never talked about her past; maybe with Helen only if she had to but other than that... Delia hadn't earned that right yet... or had she? Patsy rooted around her feelings trying to recognise a familiar signpost but came up blank. Rescuing Patsy from a beach with no information, keeping Patsy safe in her home. That meant something and despite Patsys better instincts she liked Delia. She really liked Delia. A lot.

The biggest reason she didn't want to talk about it always boiled down to the one thing she hated admitting to; shame. Telling someone what had happened meant that they looked at her differently and disgust, amusement or pity were all equally unappealing to Patsy at any time; but Delia... Would Delia really do that? She had been more than kind so far and surely Patsy could trust her, just a little?

Delia seemed to have given up on rekindling any sort of conversion and with a pointed look at her watch to check the late hour bent to pour her books back into her leather satchel. Patsy watched her moodily, still mulling over her own insecurities as Delia made a meal of attaching all the satchels clasps properly.

You're being a knob, Patsys gallant side prodded. Just try and let someone in, that was what Helen had told her to do... Patsy struggled to quell the instinctive dismissal of these thoughts, it was hard.

When Delia eventually got to her feet and began stretching and yawning a little too widely to be fully believable Patsy finally capitulated in one long tumbling gush, her fists balling in her lap as though bracing for a slap as she did it. She'd deserve a slap too probably.

"Delia...' Delia paused to blink at Patsy when her name was called but Patsy didn't let her speak, her nerves couldn't take a gap for conversation. She'd chicken out if she didn't spit it out immediately. 'I really did have a sibling; sister, I had a sister... You asked me and I didn't- But, my sister died when I was a kid, she was younger than me. Chastity. Her name was Chastity; she wasn't a twin, she was just this' Patsy felt her eyes prick with unshed tears as she dared utter anything about her sister out loud, 'red headed, tiny dot of a kid who sang a lot and hung around my ankles all day. She used to annoy me most of the time to tell you the truth but for the rest of it I loved her. So... to answer your question. Yes. I had a sister.'

She was my sister. She was my sister. She was my little sister. Patsys traitorous bottom lip wobbled as she sucked in a hurried breath. It was the damned kids. Abraham knew about the kids and she was cracking up. She hadn't been able to save Chastity but the kids in the here and now... Delia was staring at her and Patsy knew she had to finish it now she'd begun. 

'Someone threw a rock at her one day while she was walking outside the shit hole we grew up in and...' Chastity had been so upset. So shocked someone had hurt her. All she'd kept asking Patsy was why? Patsy hadn't had answers, she hadn't known any. 'It was bad and we weren't allowed to clean it properly because... Stupid reasons. It got infected. That's why she died. And I didn't do anything to save her because... Because..." Patsys words died as she ran out of answers even for herself. Why she hadn't just ignored the threats from an invisible God still haunted her. Chastity had died needlessly, begging Patsy to act and she'd been too selfish, too afraid to do something. Anything. She was as much to blame as her mother. As the master. A coward. A murderer by omission.

Delia had stopped stock still, the satchel still held in her hands limply and her eyes wide as she watched Patsy pour out her guts and slump back into the sofa breathing too fast. Patsy tensed for the onslaught of questions, the accusations or the horror expecting any manner of these combinations. In school the other kids had muttered behind her back, called her a freak, the long succession of social workers had all whispered about the kid from the cult and how she was weird. Delia must surely walk away or feel as though Patsy was some foreign object invading her tidy house, maybe she'd even send Patsy away but, shockingly to Patsy, Delia did none of those things.

The bag dropped to floor noisily, the leather straps flapping uselessly against the carpet. Delia paid it no attention. Instead she returned to the sofa in one stride and reached to wrap Patsy in a loose hug, her lips pressing gently against Patsys bowed forehead.

Patsy felt tears leaking from her eyes but didn't want to wipe them away and draw attention. She should have left after dinner. Delias grasp around her was unsettling and comfortable and she didn't know where to put her damn hands. They hugged awkwardly for a few seconds until Delia drew away and tapped her pocket hurriedly and pulled out a crumpled looking white handkerchief.

"My nan said good Welsh women always should carry a pocket chief just in case.' Delia muttered in explanation. Eyes so kind it hurt Patsy to look at them, she pried open Patsys balled hand and eased the soft fabric into Patsys grasp before sighing and sweeping hair from out of Patsys eyes gently. 'Oh Cariad.' Delia said with a resigned sigh, 'You've been in the wars haven't you. How old were you?"

Patsy dabbed at her eyes fruitlessly to stem the rushing tide and tried to unscramble her brain.

"I don't know,' she admitted hoarsely, 'never had birthdays or anything growing up. When I got out they said I was eleven from my teeth. Dentists had to take one of the back ones to work it out. Sometimes I don't even know if thats true. Could have been older, younger. Don't know when I was born. Chastity was little though, I was a couple of years older. I was her big sister." I was supposed to protect her from the world, from Him. 

And now he knows about the kids and I don't know how to stop him.

"And what about your mother? Father?" Delia asked cautiously, her hand hovering close to Patsys face as though she wanted to stroke away the pain.

"My mother?' Patsy choked back a bitter chuckle. 'She snuffed it before I got out. Don't know who my dad was; don't really want to know. The fire,' Patsy rubbed her eyes feeling absolutely exhausted for completely different reasons than her bodies failings and felt Delia creep closer again to rub her back soothingly. The urge to flex into the touch was overwhelming but Patsy couldn't. Didn't need another mistake to add to her ever growing list. 'There was a fire. Everyone from the commune burned to death." She finished dully seeing the faces. So so many faces. All dead, all burning and choking.

"Except you because you jumped out that third floor window...' Delia paused slightly and then took a deep breath, face set it in a determined grimace. 'You were in that cult Jessie was talking about at Trixies party weren't you?"

Patsy felt her chest gurgle as her neck snapped up but there was no accusation or pity in Delias face and she couldn't lie. Didn't want to. Slowly, Patsy nodded.

"I thought it was strange when you went into the garden that night. You looked really hurt.' Delia went on distantly, 'and then some of the things you were saying when you were out of it... well, I thought I'd look online, find out a bit more and, oh sweetheart, the story said one person survived. You I assume. I'm so sorry that happened to you." Delias eyes contracted as she gave in and stroked Patsys cheek. Patsy couldn't stop her hands from shaking. 

"Two people survived actually.' Patsy said after a while her voice shaking with suppressed anger, 'me and the man who killed them."

"It must have been very hard for you." Delia said quietly still apparently glued to Patsys skin as she slipped her hand back to Patsys wrist.

Patsy nodded again, not really knowing what else to say and dabbed fruitlessly at her eyes wishing it could all just go away. Delias hand tightened for a second and then released Patsys with a reluctant jerk; giving Patsy room, space, freedom to move away if she wanted to. Patsy didn't move.

"I don't believe you did something wrong Pats. You wouldn't do that." Delia sounded utterly convinced of her simple statement and Patsy wanted to start crying again just to blur those steady blue eyes. And that trust.

"You don't know me well enough to say that." Patsy countered harshly. Always people tried to tell her it wasn't her fault but she'd been there. She knew everything. She'd done nothing.

"But I want to know you...' Delia whispered, 'I think you... No, I know you're a good person Patience Mount." Delia emphasised her words with a soft pat of Patsys knee and Patsy watched her with a heavy heart.

"Thank you." She said with feeling. Couldn't manage anything more. Delia nodded seriously.

"Any time Pats, I mean it. Thank you for telling me, that can't have been easy and... I'm touched you did."

They stared at each other, the moment stretching out between them as Patsy felt every burning digit of Delias hand on her knee.

"If I asked you to stay tomorrow... With me? Would you?" Delia whispered into the ringing silence. The look in her eyes... Patsy wanted so much.

Patsy felt every part of her rail at the facts; wanting to say that she would. She would stay here just like this.

But she couldn't.

"We should go to bed... I've got a busy day tomorrow." Patsy said feebly, trying to avoid the thoughts she shouldn't be having. 

Delia licked her lips and there was a space of half a second when her fingers tightened, a flash of something heavier filled those bright blue eyes and then... it was gone. Delia nodded, the shutters falling down and got to her feet again, reaching for her bag with suddenly clumsy hands.

"Night Pats." Delia said in a resigned voice aimed towards her bag, her cheeks pink.

"Night Delia." Patsy replied hollowly watching as Delia walked to the door. It closed gently. Patsy sat staring around her rather dazed. 

Well, that had been a surprise.

For them both perhaps?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you're writing and you're working on an internal checklist to get all these threads in while maintaining a static plot and trying to make the characters believable and their actions reasonable and and and... I give up. 
> 
> Enjoy it I can't do anymore rewrites. I simply refuse. This one broke me mainly because I wrote different sections at different times so it feels all disjointed. Hopefully it doesn't to you.
> 
> Apologies for not updating on Saturday btw I had an essay based emergency that could not wait for any amount of readers. I did have fun still though watching a cringeworthy turn of events in the uni library. All I can say is there is a very sad babydkye hung up on a straight girl and bless her socks I watched in horror as she desperately tried to make a move with her mate completely in the 'isn't it great we're such great chums' circle of thought. Poor thing. 
> 
> SB


	23. Chapter 23 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I ask is...  
> if this is my last night with you.  
> Hold me like I'm more than just a friend; give me a memory I can use.  
> Take me by the hand while we do  
> What lovers do.
> 
> Adele.

Even after Patsy was absolutely certain Delia truly had gone out of ear shot she stayed rooted to her spot. Only when she could just discern the faint sound of the water pipes gurgling upstairs that told her Delia, apparently unaware of the tension pooling out of Patsy, had busied herself emptying the now cold bath and running a shower did she let herself sigh heavily.

Delia was getting ready for bed. Alone.

The living room had grown dark as evening gave way to murky night outside and the shadows seemed to be pressing in on Patsy. It matched her feelings but it wasn't quite enough for her and, with a stiff flick of her wrist, the lamp with its sunny yellow bulb beside her winked out. The room hung heavy with shades of moody silver and purple as moonlight became its only point of light.

She should have gone after dinner. She could still go now probably; Delia would understand or at least not pursue Patsy now and that would be it. She didn't do it though.

She could, probably should, go upstairs to the spare room and pretend to sleep. It would end the charade nicely. A book end to the day.

Still, Patsy didn't move to follow Delia up the stairs. The dreary feeling that had been left in the room at the two womens parting suited her mood far better than the magnolia walls of the spare bedroom would. And it wasn't as though she could sleep right now anyway. She thought of Fern and Seppie sleeping in the flat for what would be their final night and hoped they were safe. Hoped she'd done the right thing for once but so terribly afraid she'd not.

Patsy slumped back down into the sofa cushions contenting herself with the small domestic sounds of Delia moving about upstairs filling her ears. The noises were soft and too endearing. It felt strange to realise she'd become so accustomed to the almost invisible sounds of this house in such a small amount of time. Felt odd to have been able to make room in her personal space for someone else and that the world hadn't ended. 

Strange indeed.

And this was all very well to know, Patsy mused silently as the pipes closed off and bare feet padded around the upstairs hall, but it felt different tonight. The noises, which over the past few evenings had been soothing, had altered somehow. Now the idea of Delia going to bed just down the hall from where Patsy would inevitably end up laying left a restless energy thrumming through her blood. She did not want to trudge upstairs and lay down looking at the ceiling with the knowledge of how close what she really wanted was. 

Not on this portentous occasion. This final night that was hers.

Want. Another funny idea. Patsy had wanted lots of things throughout her life, had wanted lots of women in the past but... Not quite like this. Not in the itchy, heart thrumming nervous want that was growing. Had been growing since she'd woken up in Delias bed. Since Delia had dragged her from the beach. Trixies party. 

Before now Patsy had always been prepared to walk away, to let anyone go and now, now she was almost frightened at what doing just that might cost her. It felt as though she stood at one of those cross roads or forks in a road tossed around in crap c list horror movies. 

And Delia had already made the choice for them both. She hadn't pushed through Patsys denials. She'd accepted them without complaint.

The realisation was torturous and Patsy hated that she couldn't blame the woman one inch for it. Why would Delia want to become entangled with Patsy? After everything she'd found out? Everything Patsy had done with Jessie? No. Not a surprise Delia had made the choice. Probably the right choice too.

Patsy sat miserably where she was in the falling dark room waiting for the tell tale click of Delias bedroom door closing firmly. It was almost hilarious in a not at all funny way really; all week Patsy had struggled to stay awake, the lethargy collapsing her limbs to jelly and now, when sleep was all that was required to stem the situation until she could leave, sleep was the least attractive notion she'd ever heard of. She couldn't muster the energy for it. Sleep, if she managed it, would harbour nightmares and the morning and morning would mean a parting of the ways from this safe house into the brewing storm with no obvious reason or excuse to meet each other once they'd parted. 

Patsy sighed and stared at her legs ruefully. She'd splashed paint on her jeans she noticed and the yellow blobs had crumbled slightly into the weave of the fabric. It would leave a stain. Patsy foregoing all precedence in such matters decided that she liked it, liked the small piece of proof she'd be taking away with her. It meant this moment really had existed, in some simple unquestionable symbol. Picking at her knee faintly, listening to the scratch of paint where it had stiffened the material, she tried to call up the will to do what she had to and go to bed.

At least she'd be well rested for tomorrow she told herself, thank heaven for small mercies and all that.

Then, her dubious comforting were cut off short as her ears nudged her brain into recognising what she had heard but not yet recognised, muffled feet sounded quietly through the door much closer than they should do. Stairs. Downstairs. Small feet stopping outside the living room. Waiting.

Delia?

Delia hadn't gone to bed? Patsy froze where she sat reflexively and tried to blend in as much as it's physically possible for a six foot red head to blend into a brown leather sofa and the darkness. The itching need for... something, resurged with a vengeance as Patsy stared at the door her heart in her mouth.

Maybe Delia just wanted a drink she told herself as her fingers tingled. Maybe she'd forgotten something. Patsy wondered- hoped, that that thing was her. She wanted... such stupid things.

The door opened ridiculously timidly considering that this was Delias house and Patsy was just a mucky ghost haunting the space for one more night. The wood creaked in a spitefully disagreeable way in response to the inhabitants wishes for silence and stillness. Delia walked in, she'd changed into cooler clothing to sleep but she looked very awake; just a pair of shapeless grey shorts with a too long length of string dangling from the waistband and an oversize t-shirt. Her hair was wet still from her rapid shower hanging around her shoulders tidily like it had only just been brushed, the strict line of her fringe was disturbed though as if she'd had to run her hand through it a few times. 

Their eyes met across the yawning distance from the door to the sofa and even in the poor lighting Patsy knew Delia was teetering on a decision. Neither of them moved to turn on the lights. Neither of them moved at all for a few moments in fact. It was like they knew too much movement might ruin it all. Patsy felt her fist ball up tightly again on her knee and she was suddenly struck with a feeling of scruffiness, she fought the urge to tidy her hair slightly. That hum of restlessness built higher in her gut.

She watched wordlessly as Delia clutched at the frame of the door. Her hand a pale spot against the dark and Patsy had to think to not try to clear her throat which felt swollen and dry.

Patsy felt wrong somehow; she'd never not known what to do in this situation before. Everything felt awkward and strange and yet it wasn't. It was just hard to wait. 

When Delia finally released the frame and hesitated across the divide to sit tight limbed beside Patsy on the sofa it seemed as though they both breathed a sigh of relief. In the continued absence of talk they sat awkwardly side by side with both of their hands stretched out in front of them. Where it was safest. 

Patsy struggled with what she wanted to do and what she knew she shouldn't do. It was so stupid. So reckless and thoughtless a thing to want now. She still had to go and Abraham was still out there.

She would not lead this.. Whatever this was she told herself firmly. Would not demand. Delia deserved this chance to control what happened in a world where control was fleeting and besides, she, Patsy, didn't quite know what was going to happen entirely yet. The air felt very thin as Delia breathed beside her and Patsy concentrated on that. It was soothingly concrete.

"I realised' Delia said eventually, breaking the silence like a knife sliding through butter, looking obstinately down towards her hands, her voice higher than usual, 'that I didn't say thank you, for the kitchen." 

"Oh,' Patsy bit her lip and turned slightly to watch Delias profile feeling bashful at the thanks, 'it was nothing. I just wanted to do something for letting me stay here." It was a weak reply to a weak opener and they both seemed to realise it. It broke the tension slightly and Delia smiled a little wryly.

"Well... Thank you Patience." 

Patsy felt something swell in her at the sound of her name twisted in Delias accent. It sounded lovely. Sounded right. 

"Anything I can do to help." Patsy murmured, unable to stop her eyes flicking to Delias lips. Delias breathing didn't sound as even as it should have been and Patsys fingers twitched with want. 

Something very big was fanning out in front of them. A long fall or a big drop.

"I...' Delia started speaking all of a sudden and then stopped, turning to look at Patsy straight on, rocking slightly on the sofa cushions like she was running up to something. Patsy smiled encouragingly but felt a guilty weight settling on her shoulders even as she did it; if it was this difficult then Delia should go back upstairs. She wanted to do something right for once and Delia was looking at her like she expected Patsy to have answers.

Everyone always thought she had answers and she didn't.

"Delia,' Patsy began gently, the words dragging from her unwanted and unwelcome but necessary, 'it's okay. We don't have to-"

"I don't want you to go tonight." Delia interrupted her, voice deliberate and eyes over bright. Patsy swallowed hard.

"Why would you want that?" Patsy asked honestly. Jessie, her fucked up history, it didn't make sense. 

Delia paused as though thinking about this and then shook her head, reaching between them to take Patsys hands with just a bit too much haste. Warmth enveloped Patsy at the touch and she felt like it was burning. Everything seemed hot. Delia flipped Patsys hand over and stroked a thumb down the crease of the palm carefully. 

"If... Did you really mean it? What you said before, that I would mean something to you? If... If you took me to bed?" Delias bravery appeared to be evaporating by the second as she stared at Patsys hand and Patsy had to stop her eyes closing in satisfaction of how it felt to be touched so sweetly. 

"Yes. I meant it." Patsy said quietly, wanting to reciprocate and not wanting to provoke anything. Delia. This had to be on Delias terms she reminded herself. 

Delia chewed her lip her expression hard to read as she became lost in her own thoughts and pressed their hands together. Patsys fingers curled slightly to pull Delias closer and they both sighed again. Patsy could barely breathe as she waited for the next step. There had to be another step. Some definite sign that she could-

"Well... That's enough for now then. Isn't it?" And with that Delia removed her hand from Patsys almost as suddenly as she had placed it there and stood up. 

Patsy let her go, her heart pulsing in her throat as Delia turned to lock their eyes again, a defiant flavour in the set of her jaw. She stood just long enough to assure herself she had Patsys full attention and then, boldly, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Patsys hands clamped back into fists as Delia threw the top behind her with total confidence.

Delia wasn't wearing a bra, her breasts flashed and weaved as their owner fidgeted and the pale peaks of her nipples were already hard. Perfect. Patsy realised she hadn't blinked in what felt like a very long time, she realised too that her mouth was hanging open. Although she'd thought she wanted a definite sign she hadn't quite expected that somehow.

"Delia." Patsy croaked uselessly as Delia stalked back towards her, her pale chest bouncing enticingly with each step until she was inches away. Patsy sat locked into her position worried one wrong move would have her waking up from some bizarre dream.

"I think... if we don't think too hard about it' Delia whispered cautiously, 'I think it might just about be okay."

Patsy still didn't move, locked in indecision until Delia, looking a little impatient at Patsys reticence, perched down beside her again and smiled hopefully.

"What if it's not a good idea?" Patsy asked, unwilling to let the soft idea of tomorrows troubles spur her on. This was Delia. Delia deserved so much more than this.

"Patsy,' Delia said in a strained voice, 'I'm asking you to take me to bed. To me you aren't a mistake. Here;" A little shaky, Delia leant to hold Patsys hand again, Patsy felt the muscles slacken at the first touch and then sagged as Delia pulled it up firmly to cradle a handful sized breast. The gentle bump bump beneath Patsys palm told Patsy that Delias heart was racing just as fast as hers right now.

God, she was perfect.

Patsy felt the warmth spread along her fingers and took stronger gulps of air. She licked her lips as her hand squeezed without her permission and she felt Delia sigh and lean slightly in her hold. Looking up, slack jawed, Patsy saw Delia watching her with the merest shadow of nerves and smiled with sudden calm. 

This was Delia. Patsy wanted this more than she'd ever wanted before. This was Delia bloody Busby. There was just them and she wanted this. She wanted Delia. 

"I thought I'd blown it with the wall." Patsy muttered eventually, humming faintly as she allowed her other hand to wander up Delias shoulder to stretch across a defined collar bone with vigour. 

Delias smile flickered and grew. She leaned in and caught Patsys lips in a soft, questioning kiss. First kiss. Their first kiss but it wouldn't be the last. They had all night and finally Patsy knew what Delia tasted like. She tasted like Delia mainly, the soft set to her lips encased Patsys own like a caress as they opened and seemed to draw Patsy in. Warm hands gripped the back of her neck imploringly and Patsy answered the wordless request in the only way she knew how. 

Far too quickly the kiss grew deeper, more urgent as tongue met tongue and Patsy, not fully aware of her hands business was pulling Delia onto her lap wanting her closer than skin, wanting the heavy imprint of Delia bone deep. Delia was burning hot even through Patsys shirt and she could feel Delias breasts rubbing against her front, the inelegant movements of them both as they lost the ability to think between gasping, wonderful, first kisses. Patsy felt her body tighten as she fumbled to touch the curving column of Delias spine, the widening bloom of her hips.

Delias hands were not idle either, already creeping down to tug on Patsys jeans, popping the button with fumbling fingers, their mouths drawing in shaky gasps as they refused to break apart for one more second. Patsy smoothed over seemingly endless plains of soft skin, desperate to touch it all. She would touch it all before the end of tonight. She would worship what couldn't be hers.

Sweat curled along Patsys neck as she felt her zip slide down in fits and starts to leave a gap in her now open jeans and stifled a cry as Delias restless hands applied accidental pressure as it tried to push at the solid fabric, searching for flesh. Their kisses were growing harder, frantic, Patsy gasped as teeth found her lip. The flash of it made her too ready, blood flooded south faster than holiday makers in high summer. Too fast. She was going to lose it too quickly. They needed to slow down. Bed. They needed a bed or somewhere flat anywhere where she could see everything, touch everything. The floor was a tempting option right now as Delias fingerprints burned along the seam of Patsys knickers and warmth gushed to meet them there. She wanted Delia like a physical ache.

"Bed?" Patsy gasped as Delia mouth moved fractionally to skim her lips against the shape of Patsys chin. A tongue swiping the almost imperceptible cleft there.

"Bed." Delia agreed fervently with a final nip of Patsys jaw before hand stumbling backwards, her skin gleaming, hair in glorious dissaray, her right hand curled in the fabric of Patsys shirt and dragging her with her, refusing to be separate. Patsy couldn't argue with the woman's logic as the kissed walking backwards, giggling at obstacles as they found them.

Patsy didn't want to let go of Delia.

The climb up the stairs was a harder feat to manoeuvre. Now that they'd started neither of them were inclined to stop for anything bar the possibility of a broken leg and even that, as they rounded the curve of the bannister at the top of the stairs, drifted into inconsequentialness as Delia pressed Patsy to the wall and pushed down Patsys jeans and knickers forcefully, her hands reaching immediately to cup Patsys bum with a satisfied squeeze. Patsy stepped out of the tight constraints more than willingly and heard Delia huff with pleasure into her neck, hot breath muster the skin as soft lips sucked at the curve. Delias hands still kneaded the flesh hungrily as Patsy pulled Delia closer and bent to press her lips to Delias breasts. 

Patsy loved the disappointment groan as Delia had to stop her kisses.

"I like these." Patsy said offhandedly as she twirled one nipple in her mouth almost lazily, savouring the indrawn breaths above her head. 

"If you can find them." Delia muttered abashed and Patsy grinned, letting her teeth graze the very edge of one stiff nipple until she felty Delias back arch under her fingers and a hand press just so on her shoulder. 

"Well,' Patsy murmured as she swiped one final turn of the pink tip and returned to Delias face feeling euphoric, 'I've found them no problem." 

Delia laughed and bunched her shaking fists back in Patsys shirt dragging them both towards the spare bedrooms door.

"Believe me I'm ecstatic to hear it." Delia said laughing. The door offered only a few moments of confusion as Patsy pressed her lips against a spot on Delias neck that illicited a surprised moan from Delia so loud that the hairs on the back of Patsys neck raised.

The sound made important muscles clench in Patsy and whatever blood that had remained to take care of benal functions like the brain dropped tools and followed their brethren to Patsys groin as Delia ground her body into her. Patsy paused and traced the spot with her tongue, she wanted to hear that noise again.

And again and again.

But she was thwarted as the door swung open and they stumbled inside only to end up pressed against another wall, flipping in turns as they fumbled against each other. Laughing and kissing breathlessly.

Delia didn't seem to want to let Patsy go much further away than an inch and Patsy was more than happy with this arrangement. She was so distracted with the kissing that she almost didn't realise when one of Delias arms left her waist to reach blindly along the parallel wall for the light switch. Almost didn't notice. Almost.

"What are you doing?" Patsy asked blearily as she sucked in a desperate gust of air.

"Lights." Delia muttered equally distracted, returning to Patsys lips with renewed energy. Her hand still patting uselessly against the wall. Patsy frowned and tried to pull the escaping limb back.

"Leave them." She suggested as Delia did something with her tongue inside her mouth that made Patsys stomach clench. Why the hell Delia thought they needed mood lighting right now was anybodies guess. Patsy was more worried about embarrassing herself by cumming too soon. She felt like she'd been electrified.

"Just... give me a... second." Delia insisted desperately as Patsy sucked at the sharp line of her jaw and huffed as her hips curved into Patsy like a bow. Patsy sighed and, though it went against every instinct, took a step back. The seperation from Delias warmth was harder to take than she thought it would be it felt physically painful. She hated the cool air on her front as she panted. 

"Delia, why can't I see you?" Patsy felt a bit silly saying it. Couldn't understand why the idea of Delia turning off the lights bugged her so much but she did know that she didn't want to do this in darkness. She didn't want to feel ashamed or as though this was an anonymous tryst. This was Delia. Patsy wanted Delia in the light, in full knowledge of what they were doing. She wanted to see her face when she came.

"I just... I don't usually-' Delia stopped herself just in time, recalling perhaps that talking about other women was uncouth, looking wretched as she lent against the wall, her neck red and glowing with sweat. 'I don't look like you naked." She finished lamely and Patsy stared back faintly surprised and more than a little charmed by the shy tinge to Delias face.

"Not like me?' Patsy asked in wry disbelief. 'Why? What have you got down there? Teeth? Oh God, that's got to be it isn't it? You've got teeth down there?" Patsy tried not to smirk as she eyed Delias figure. The grey shorts were just begging to be pulled down for Gods sake. Delias legs, while not long like Patsys own, were still extremely... interesting. The muscles were lean but impressive from obvious hard time spent out on the bike. Patsy wanted to feel the skin against her lips, wanted them wrapped around her. Her brain was only doing half time as blood rushed to other areas and pulsed.

Insistently.

Delia seemed shaken from her reluctance as Patsys question brought her short. She froze for a second before bringing two fingers to her mouth and surprising them both by giggling.

"Teeth?' She said still laughing. 'Tell me Pats? What would you do if I said I had teeth down there?"

Patsy tried to think. Her fingers twitched as she licked her lips, wanting to end the conversation because she personally felt their mouths could so easily be put to a million other uses right now.

"Umm I don't know,' Patsy croaked as she searched around for an answer, 'metal gloves?" She volunteered as her groin contracted again. Delia gave another laugh and reached forward to pull Patsy by her top so that they were flush against one another again. 

Patsy went willingly, mouth dry, sighing as her fingers met warm skin again. Touching Delia was addictingly good.

"Well, I don't have any teeth other than the ones in my mouth I promise.' A shadow fell over Delia as she inclined her head and trailed a finger down Patsys waist. Sucking in a breath as though she was about to say something terribly shameful. 'It's just... The crash, there's a scar on my hip and I don't want you to see it. It's ugly." Delias lips puckered and she blushed, the hand that had been reaching for the light drifted down to slide across her right hip convulsively as though checking to make sure that it was still covered in material.

Patsy blinked stupidly, surprised and confused. A scar? Delia was slowing them down and worrying over something as unimportant as a scar? Patsy wanted to laugh at the ludicrous idea that Delia believed she could be somehow derailed from what she had planned by a skin blemish but the look of actual shame in Delias eyes stopped her. Someone had made her feel insecure about this and Patsy wouldn't make it worse by diminishing her concerns. 

"A scar?' Patsy said gently, bringing her hands up to Delias shoulders and squeezing just enough to make Delia shiver and her eyes glaze slightly. 'Delia, honestly, I want you for you. A scar won't bother me.' She pressed a kiss against Delias lips. A slow one this time and felt Delia answer in kind before pulling her face away and raising her eyebrows cajolingly. 'Come on,' she wheedled 'I told you about mine, hell, you've already seen mine. Let me see it. If it freaks you out we'll put the light off but I don't...' Patsy felt her ears turn red as she let herself sound like the kind of woman she'd usually run a mile from. 'Want to do this in the dark." 

Delia watched her for a few seconds, her hand brushing up Patsys t-shirt, the questing fingers skimming the underside of Patsys breasts seeking some support as her other thumb stroked the slight indent where hips met spine on Patsys back.

"Trust me. I won't lie to you." Patsy promised quietly, resting her forehead against Delias, smelling the perfume from her hair. Delias hands tightened ever so slightly pulling at the thin fabric of Patsys t-shirt before breathing out wavy and shallow and nodding. Just once, tight and nervous.

"It's ugly." Delia warned Patsy carefully before pressing her lips together looking tense. 

Patsy smiled reassuringly and kissed the tip of Delias nose again, m willing her hands to seem certain. She couldn't explain why but she felt shaky on the inside as finally, finally, finally she hooked her fingers in the waistband of Delias shorts. The elastic slipped past smooth skin easily and Patsy let it drop to the floor with a muffled whump of fabric leaving only Delia in her knickers. Black, Patsy noted dutifully, as her eyes slid down the columns of Delias legs. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

She wanted to slide her hands down them. Wanted them wrapped around her. The strong short expanses of... Patsy mind couldn't conjure up enough metaphors. She knew only that she really liked Delias legs, and waist and... Delia. Patsy really liked Delia. 

The realisation fell over Patsy like soft rain and made her smile stupidly up at the Welsh woman who was watching her cautiously. Waiting and worried.

It took a moment for Patsy to remember why. The slight resettling of weight jogged her mind more than anything.

Oh right, the scar. Patsy looked back down to see what all the fuss was about and found herself oddly enchanted. The scar hung from Delias right hip bone, a mix of triangle and circle in shape and about the size of a handprint with spidery silver lines criss crossing around the front and back of Delias thigh. It was oddly puckered in texture as though something had been grafted there but badly. The skin was shiny but the wound obviously old. An old wound that must have hurt a lot. That Delia walked as well as she did was a true testimony of strength.

With some difficulty Patsy released Delias death grip on her shirt and knelt down so the blemish was at eye level and, with a swift glance at Delias pensive features, used both hands to map it out with trailing fingertips. The skin was soft where she touched feather light but still warm, the silver tinged marks flexed slightly as Delias thigh tightened and its rough surface caught the light strangely. It captivated Patsy and she thought it seemed almost like mother of pearl had been embossed into the flesh; a precious thing to be kept safe. Patsy felt the muscles bunch as Delia tensed again with her prolonged silence and waited patiently for her to relax as she bent to press reverential kisses to the skin. It smelled faintly sweet as she followed the line of smoother flesh around a winding path that led inexorably into the hollow of Delias groin and paused to rest her head against the basin of Delias hips. Smelled sweet here too.

Whoever had made this woman self conscious deserved a very specific kind of retribution. Patsy had never been so enthralled. Having Delia like this beneath her hands was like music. It held its own rhythm and all Patsy could hope was that she would know the right steps. She hoped she could be enough. She closed her eyes as she felt Delias hands stroke through the crown of her head. She wanted to stay like this forever. 

Just like this.

But of course Patsy wasn't the soul decider in current events and when she felt Delias hips press just so into her jaw she recalled what else she could be doing and perhaps how Delia might be worrying unnecessarily. Slowly, she looked up to meet Delias eyes and let out a lazy, shit eating smile. Delia answered with one of her own slightly uncertainly.

"Ahh Delia.' Patsy said contentedly, feeling her breath dampen the skin pressed against her cheek, 'you're beautiful. How could you not know that?"

"Why are you smiling?" Delia whispered looking bashful but pleased and Patsy laughed, happiness bubbling up inside her as she pressed another kiss just below Delias belly button that made the skin break out into goosebumps and let Delia pull her back to her feet.

"Well, I've got a half naked woman with an incredible body letting me roam free. I've got every reason to be smiling I think." Patsy said warmly watching Delias cheeks flush and wishing she could take this moment and press it in a book somewhere just so she could take it out and look at it in her old age. It was as close to perfect as Patsy had ever had and she wanted to keep going and at the same time never go on. It was a giddy sensation as Delia made a low sound from the bottom of her throat and pulled Patsy to her again, insistently now. 

They came together sweetly, arms wrapping around each other as they shared a kiss that started slow but somehow built in pressure until Patsy couldn't recall anything but the feel of Delia cleaving to her front and the hard imprint of Delias lips on hers. 

Delia, blessedly, appeared far more alert than Patsy at this moment and Patsy happily let her take the lead, bobbing her head obligingly as her shirt was tugged frantically over her head and thrown somewhere out of sight. She shivered, naked as the day she was born as Delias palms fell onto her chest and groped greedily at her breasts as they both stumbled backwards towards the invisible line of the bed. 

Skin. Patsy wanted to touch all of Delia, wanted to hold and press her and- Patsy let out a muffled breath as they hit the edge of the bed and fell backwards; tumbling onto the bouncing mattress in a tangle of limbs. 

Patsy gasped as Delia landed on top of her heavily, her thigh rising to slide between the smaller womans legs and then experiencing the giddy sensation of slick heat emanating from where her skin touched Delias. The burning proof there just waiting for her. The evidence of both their wants was undeniable and Patsys mouth fell open as she creaked a sigh from airless lungs. Immediately and most alarmingly she felt Delia release her hold of her with a loud exclamation of apology.

"Shit! Sorry! Your ribs." Quickly and to Patsys consternation Delia tried to edge off of Patsy, peeling away her sweaty body. 

Barely functioning at rational levels but particularly aware that distance was not what she wanted right now Patsy held Delia more firmly to her, pinning them together by the axis of their hips, pointedly securing Delias weight more comfortably on top of her pelvis to leave a truly wonderful vision of Delias breasts bobbing a few inches away from Patsys mouth as she shifted her bent legs more onto the mattress. She could feel their openings almost pressing together and the pressure was going to kill her. The urge to just arch higher and seek some friction was all consuming.

"I swear to God if you stop now I'm going to explode." Patsy said in a voice so low she hardly recognised it. Pointedly she ground upwards seeking their contact and watched Delias mouth open into an 'o' of understanding as Patsys insides clenched and her clit throbbed. 

Though no less obviously affected to Patsys dismay she realised Delias eyes were crinkling as an evil leer spread across her lips.

"Explode Patsy, surely not? Delia whispered in mock concern, 'Well, we can't have that can we." Deliberately Delia pushed her hips forward meeting Patsy thrust for thrust so that their centres pressed together rhythmically. Patsy felt her neck muscles lose control as her head fell back limply. She bloody hoped Delia wasn't a tease. She was not interested in waiting. With a meaningful twitch she tugged at the only piece of clothing left to impede her. Knickers had their place in the world and it wasn't here and now. Delia was still wearing them somehow.

Delias smile deepened as she felt Patsy try to pull down the flimsy material and purposefully pulled away to hover a little out of reach. Removing their contact.

"Careful,' Delia said with exaggerated seriousness, smiling wickedly even as her lips poked out to swipe at dry lips, 'what if you explode?" 

Delia had lovely dimples Patsy thought fleetingly. Evil but lovely. Desperately she tried to curve her longer arm a little higher to keep tugging at the offending undergarment.

"Take them off." Patsy implored as Delia countered her by raising herself up on her knees even higher still pinning Patsy easily and Patsy groaned; not quite ready to beg yet but warming up to the idea. Delia just hummed in answer before lowering slightly and cupping Patsys breasts; one in each hand.

"I might. In a minute maybe." Delia said thoughtfully, a victorious glint in her eye as she lowered her face to Patsys chest and pulled an aching nipple into her mouth; swirling her tongue around the peak as it stiffened under her clever tongue. Patsy was forced to give up on her attempts at movement abruptly; she had to concentrate on how to breathe as Delias other hand echoed it owners mouth. It felt like invisible strings were pulling with every movement Delia made to the pit of Patsys stomach and lower.

Just for something to hold on to more than anything Patsy locked her arms around Delias back and settled for sucking on a pale shoulder lightly. She wasn't the only one struggling to breathe by the sounds of it. The lips tightened perceptibly as Patsy left one single red bruise on the spot that had illicited the intriguing moan from earlier. Patsy brushed her lips against the mark once it was made, swiping her tongue against the skin to soothe any tiny pang of pain. 

Just a tiny piece of evidence Patsy wanted to leave in case this turned into a distant dream. Delia didn't seem to mind, seemed to be thinking on the same lines in fact. Patsy felt her back arch when a gentle scrape of teeth carved a stain on the delicate skin on the bottom edge of her breast. Delias slight in drawn breath as skin flushed and reddened told Patsy she wasn't alone. This meant something.

Delia was merciless and perfection as she seemed to be somehow capable of touching everywhere all at the same time. Patsy had no idea how Delia was reading her mind, knowing what she liked but she wasn't about to complain. When she arched again she felt dampness stain her leg again through those cursed knickers and knew Delia was already ready for her. Just wasn't ready to let Patsy go yet. To give up her exploration.

And Patsy could give her that if nothing else.

Patsy let Delia get it all out of her system, burning where she lay as the heady sensation of someone trying desperately to make her squirm washed over her. Patsy wasn't used to this sort of thing. Sex she understood but there was never much call for so much build up when you didn't even know their name. This felt different somehow. Or maybe Patsy was just feeling different. The kissing, the slow exploration like time didn't matter was foreign. She never usually allowed herself to be topped either, something Delia was taking full advantage of at the minute, she never let the control slip out of her grasp for too long. Only once before had she allowed that to happen and the results were still being felt. Val. Of course, Val hadn't ever been particularly interested in how Patsy enjoyed herself. Delia however seemed to be taking more pleasure in touching Patsy than seeking her own relief. 

Felt nice really. Strange too. 

Delia let Patsys breast go slowly, her forehead shiny with sweat and her lips overplump when she raised her face to Patsys. Open and expectant and beautifully strange. Patsy dropped one of her hands immediately and traced the shadowy line between Delias lips and moaned with shaking need when Delia opened her mouth to nip at the tips.

"Are you feeling any better Cariad?" Delia asked sweetly if slightly muffled, her teeth pressing still against the pads of Patsys fingers. 

Patsy bent her knees so Delia was semi bracketed between them and raised her chin defiantly.

"If you don't take off your knickers Delia I won't be accountable for my actions." Patsy warned oppressively only to find to her dismay that Delia did not seem to be taking the slightest bit of notice. She'd taken the momentary pause in Patsys concentration to slide her arm through the gap between their bodies and was stroking Patsys wet folds with a maddeningly light pressure. 

Patsys eyes rolled back in her head and she couldn't stop her pelvis shooting upwards to meet Delias fingers eagerly. 

"See,' Delia said smugly, 'you don't mind really." 

Patsy could feel her body aching to be filled, the hazy concept of what she wanted to do to Delia eclipsed by what Delia was already doing to her. 

"This does not mean you've won." Patsy qualified in a wheeze as her legs gave in and spread wider to let Delia have free reign. 

Delia gave a throaty chuckle than made Patsys toes curl as she spread Patsy with a swipe of her thumb making Patsys breathing stutter and her fingers tighten on Delias back. 

"I like to think we're both winning." Delia whispered into Patsys ear, her tongue swiping to graze the sensitive skin just beneath it making sweat break out on the palms of Patsys hands. 

"Stop teasing me." Patsy pleaded feeling broken as Delia continued making long swipes with her clever fingers again and again but always stopping short of where Patsy ached the most. 

"But I like how it feels." Delia mumbled dreamily, her lips still ghosting along Patsys neck, her breasts rubbing along Patsys tantalisingly light and Patsy itched to touch them. She just couldn't seem to master her body long enough to move her limbs, the paralysing sweetness of Delias hands and lips leaving her useless to anything but her own growing arousal. 

"I don't know what you're doing to me." Patsy said aloud, feeling her heart drum so loudly against her rib cage Delia should be able to feel it as Delia made a heavier swipe. Patsy seemed to be morphing into a kind of jelly. 

"You're really wet." Delia breathed, sounding both surprised and delighted. Patsy choked as Delia finally stroked a little higher, the tip of her thumb just grazing the edge of her clit and gave up all pretence at bravado.

"Because I'm really turned on Delia. I need..." Patsy cut off sharply; couldn't frame words as Delia gently pushed inside of her. Delias face seemed totally absorbed in concentration as Patsy moaned and rose to meet the digits. 

"Better?" Delia asked in an awed sort of voice as Patsy felt her muscles contract to hold onto Delias fingers. Patsy didn't bother to reply, just leaned up to capture Delias mouth in a searing kiss as Delia slowly pulled away to return again a little deeper as they both adjusted.

It wasn't frantic, Delia was shockingly gentle with Patsy, like she was afraid she might break her if she went too fast and the languid kisses filled the space as they met skin to skin over and over. Delia changing the tempo inch by inch, searching for something, her fingers curling and pulling just enough until Patsy couldn't take it any more and the pressure that had been building since the moment Delia had sat down beside her on the sofa spilled out in one blinding surge that took Patsys breath away. 

Delia was everywhere, her body crushed to Patsys as they rocked and moaned still kissing like the world was ending. Patsy didn't want it to end, the gnawing, burning release of so much tension drained all the marrow from her bones as her legs clamped around Delias to hold her as close as possible.

She never wanted to let her go.

When the waves slowly abated to be replaced by after shocks that made her whimper Delia slowly withdrew her fingers. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her chest vividly red as she breathed in heavily but her face as she bent for one more slow kiss on Patsys chin was so achingly beautiful it brought tears to Patsys eyes. 

She had never felt this cared for and the long denied longing for this, just this, took Patsys last bit of strength. She closed her eyes to try and squeeze the tears back but it didn't work. A few escaped onto her cheek and she couldn't turn her head away. Delia was already there, laying down beside her, her hand smoothing down the line of Patsys lips clumsily. 

"What's wrong, did I hurt you?" Delia asked concerned and Patsy shook her head quickly, dragging up her arm to wipe her eyes and turning onto the side facing Delia. Hurriedly, she slipped her leg in between Delias for the solid comfort it gave and pressed closer for the protective warmth the closeness gave. She felt Delias lips bump against hers again, seeking and giving comfort and Patsy wanted to cry even more. It was just so damn perfect. 

"Pats?' Delia said again, 'what's wrong?" 

Patsy opened her eyes, Delia was so close and Patsy wanted those stupid things again.

She felt like she wanted to say something she'd definitely regret. 

With a surge of energy Patsy sat up and pulled Delias legs around her waist trying to silence the urge to say everything in her head. Knickers. Fucking knickers.

Grumbling with effort Patsy hooked her fingers into the crotch and pulled. The material split with a snick noise and Delia laughed watching Patsy deliberately drop the dark remnants to the floor with a victorious smile.

"Feel better for that?" Delia asked with a cocky raise of her chin and Patsy answering smile was all teeth.

"Needed to be done."

"Honestly Pats,' Delia said with a smirk sitting up slightly, leaning back on her arms cockily, 'I would have taken th-"

Patsy wasn't listening, was already inside Delia, desperate to feel that holding heat for real, blood beating its tattoo in her brain as Delia cut off with an abrupt gasp. Patsys back tingled as she felt Delias walls shake around her and had to grit her teeth to stop from moaning in time with Delia.

This was what she wanted. And this. And this.

Delia was watching her with hooded eyes, her chin high with defiance, sweat dripping down her throat as they moved in synch and Patsy knew she wanted to see this for a long time. Wanted this, just this for a very long time.

"Come here, I need you." Delia said muzzily as though she'd read Patsys mind and Patsy leant forward feeling Delias strong thighs curl around her. Holding her. They were strong too, the enticing flex as Delia bucked with the push of Patsys fingers made Patsys insides burn. With her free hand Patsy traced the shadow of a ridge on Delias abdomen and felt her hips piston against Delias uselessly. She wanted this woman with a desperation she'd never quite known. 

Delia was still drawing her closer, the stomach beneath Patsys fingers was slick with sweat and both of their wants as Patsy leant down to capture Delias lips. They kissed unsteadily, Delias mouth opening to expel great gusts of air, panting, wisps of words in a language Patsy didn't fully understand met her ears as Patsy desperately clung on and picked up speed. Patsy watched avidly as Delias eyes glazed and their hips began to meet almost violently with Patsy trying to control her rhythm through ragged breaths.

She was losing it.

Patsy felt Delias orgasm hit too soon in a succession of quakes around her fingers and the tightening of Delias hands in her hair, tugging insistently when Patsy changed her angle. Something warm dripped down her palm as Delia squeezed around her and let out a surprised gasp, her body growing rigid as a board and all Patsy knew was Delia.

This. Patsy wanted-

But Patsy didn't want to stop yet. She kept going, pushing Delia onward until she was arching so high Patsy was lifted ever so slightly off the bed, her eyes were closed and her mouth was slack, gasping for air. Welsh, she was saying something in Welsh. Again. Again Patsy pushed her, hypnotised by the look on Delias face as Patsy made her lose control, the only thing she could give freely.

Patsy thought she might like to carry on indefinitely until Delias hands began pulling weakly at Patsys wrist to tell her she couldn't take anymore. Patsy slowed even as she felt her chest coil, her ribs were burning but she didn't care. 

Patsy lay slumped on top of the smaller woman's shuddering body and felt Delia wheeze underneath her as she tried to get her breath back. Patsy withdrew slowly, reluctant to move and felt Delia shake even more at the movement. Patsys fingers were still wet when they hit the air and she brought them to her lips thoughtlessly just to know what Delia tasted like.

Delia had evidently been watching because she gave a weak sigh when Patsy looked at her and then shook her head reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"You can have a sticker for that." Delia said in a slurred voice, scooting over slightly so she could lay half over Patsy. A possessive thigh draping over Patsys hips and Patsy felt herself fight another surge of want in response. Delia was going to be addictive. She couldn't stop touching her, rocking against tender flesh, a great looming part of her wanting to keep going because tomorrow wasn't here yet.

Delias face was resting on Patsys chest, right over her heart, her fingers tracing shapeless patterns on Patsys stomach that made Patsys heart thump unevenly. Patsy lay where she was, content not to move again for a while, her own hands smoothing down a strong back, tracing the indents of each piece of spine lazily.

"Do they do really do stickers for that." Patsy said eventually and Delia snickered, pressing a damp kiss against Patsys breast.

"Trust me; they really do do stickers for everything." 

"Delia?" 

"Yes Cariad?"

"You're beautiful you know." 

Delia propped her face on her elbow, her mouth still slack as she peered at Patsy sweetly.

"I meant what I said you know.' Delia traced a hand across Patsys shoulder, fingers dancing along the bone, 'I want you to stay."

Patsys arms twitched but they didn't let go from where they were. She couldn't, not really, not yet.

"I know. I still have to go though." Patsy whispered glumly, tracing the calf adjacent to her hip. Delia didn't waver just pressed another kiss to Patsys cheek and ducked her head to fit beneath Patsys chin looking smug.

"I know you do' Delia hummed without heat before squeezing her leg tighter, territorially, 'and wherever you go; I'm coming with you."

Patsy blinked up towards the ceiling feeling as though Delia had just stolen her line somehow. Delia merely nestled in closer, apparently not feeling the need to say anything else. 

It was a gesture impractically voiced of course. There was no way Patsy could agree, no part of her that desired bringing Delia further into harms way. She couldn't be that selfish and yet... Just for tonight. She felt a slow smile spread across her face as she allowed the dangerous imaginations of all the extra complications Delia could cause.

She'd definitely had more to complain of before now.

"Night Delia." Patsy said quietly. Her arm winding around to hook about Delias waist, her fingers splaying against the mark of the old scar on her hip. Beautiful.

Delia looked like she was about to drop off already, rousing only to wrap her leg a little tighter around Patsys hips.

Somehow, as strange as it was, they both fell asleep very quickly that night, the lull of deeds done pulling them out to a world of surmountable dreams. 

Tomorrow was hours away yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuck ladies; you all commented so lovely on the last one I broke and thought I'd give the extra too.
> 
> It's smut. I wrote smut again and I'll give you fair warning it's not my thing, there are tons of people who just manage it effortlessly (now see here for instance) and it's super hot. I think I've managed Luke warm with feelings but it sort of works here for what I need and yeah; they needed something nice. 
> 
> It's a really weird thing to write a sex scene, I'm always super conscious not to write it too flowery or stupid or just plain impossible because of basic bloody biology (there are fics out there who talk about boobs getting bigger magically and it's cringeworthy). 
> 
> Anyhoo, this is what I came up with. It's been written for months now because I can't just write stuff like this off the cuff, I have to keep coming back and tweaking (ahem, so to speak).
> 
> Just as a fair warning; there might be a lag with posting the next few chapters, my module exams and everything are on the 6th and I must cram. I need to do a few wedding bits and bobs too which take up time so everything is a bit butchered for the next few weeks. Apologies to anyone desperately wanting to know what happens to the kids.
> 
> Anyway, I'll go off and blush now. See ya soon.
> 
> SB


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're having quite an intimate personal moment (not now)  
> Could you maybe come at a slightly less awful time? (not now)  
> She can see I've got someone quite nice here with me  
> Can't we just be left alone  
> I guess that's a no then  
> Seeing as how you're still here  
> Seeing as how you're still here
> 
> Imogen heap, Bad body double.

Patsy awoke very early the next morning, the knowledge of what she'd done, what they'd both done settling over her like a heavy blanket. Too soon her mind filled with heated recriminations at her careless actions but she didn't yet make to move away. For one thing; Delia was so tightly wrapped around her it rendered the possibility of any real movement a fairy tale and for another; she just plain didn't want to.

Not. At. All.

The light bulb still glowed artificially bright behind its beige shade hanging from the ceiling where they'd left it on all night, neither one of them willing to get up and switch it off. Patsy watched it without blinking, faintly hypnotised as she registered the way Delia gently snored against her chest.

Delia snored?

Patsy struggled with herself, tried to smother the insane urge to giggle. She shouldn't find that habit sweet, shouldn't find all of this so damned enticing but... She did.

And she was so beyond screwed because of it.

It was like walking an unknown but still well trodden route without a map. One minute she knew where she was; recognised the terrain and geography and then, bam, she was somehow hanging off a mountain by her fingertips and wondering how she got here. She'd stayed a whole night with someone and she didn't feel terrified.

She must be getting old. And stupid.

Of course, the whole thing was ridiculous she told herself stubbornly. It couldn't work out they way she wanted it to. This sort of thing never did. Patsy shouldn't have been so weak, should have walked away when Delia made her advances but... there was no excuse really except Patsy hadn't wanted to. She had wanted Delia. She wanted her right now again too, wanted so, so much. So many unrealistic things.

And that feeling of want was new, that kind of want at least, that stomach churning need that hadn't somehow ended once they'd slept together. It was all very new and the murky unknowable future left Patsy chafing silently against familiar sensations of panic as good sense prodded at old insecurities.

What happened if Delia woke up and told her she didn't feel the same way? What if Delia was just another Val, happy to sleep with her but beyond that was barely willing to entertain Patsy as a serious option? What if this was really going to hurt?

That possibility was almost inevitable of course, Patsy had experienced too many disappointments in her time not to recognise the signs. There was so much to say between them. Patsy sighed quietly as she traced Delias spine with her finger. It wasn't even as though they'd have time to sort it all out either. Time was up and she had to get the girls today. She'd have to go soon. Maybe very soon.

Maybe the best thing for them both was for Patsy to slip away before Delia woke up. You couldn't ruin a good memory if you left before it turned complicated could you?

Delia snorted loudly just as Patsy began to edge a questioning foot along the seam of the bed and Patsys lips twitched against her will.

She still didn't want to leave.

Patsy let her foot drift back with a small twinge of guilt. She was being a coward. This was Delia after all. It was hard to feel all that scared when Delias face was crushed against her chest. Hard to believe that this could all go south. There was just so many factors to consider and in the here and now Delia was warm and... Awake?

The snores died with a final delicate sort of blort sound. Patsy could feel sleepy eyes opening very near to her skin, the ghost like touch of eyelashes blinking to alertness.

"Morning." Patsy murmured, thinking it best just to get the hardest part over with. If Delia pulled away immediately then she would have her answer, she could leave it there.

Could she though? Could she actually do that? God, Patsy didn't even know basic answers this morning.

Delias head tilted as she looked at Patsy through red rimmed eyes. Soft eyes Patsy noted helplessly, everything about Delia was just so disarmingly soft and she, Patsy, was so screwed.

"You're still here?" Delia smiled muzzily, pressing a damp kiss to the base of Patsys neck as her hand glided proprietorally down Patsys stomach, assuring herself she really was all there.

"Course I am. Where else would I go without saying goodbye?" Patsy mumbled half guilty as she pulled her foot more deeply under the covers and pushed away the sense of fervent gladness that Delia couldn't read minds. Clearly unaware of Patsys thoughts and more than happy at being held Delia paused before answering while she stretched into the circle of Patsys arms her expression content.

"Dunno, away?' Delia yawned, her face nuzzling more into Patsys shoulder and her leg gripped Patsy tighter reflexively. 'I don't know, I thought it might all of been a bit of a dream really."

Patsy felt her mouth curl again as Delia finally settled against her and could not fight the euphoria of knowing Delia wanted her here. Delia was pleased she was here, she did not dispise Patsy for taking what she offered and she did not want her to leave. The thought sent hot air through her body, floating her towards somewhere she'd never quite been but often yearned for.

"Do I regularly turn up in your dreams then?" Patsy asked throatily.

"Hmm?' Delia appeared to not be listening, her hand had crept up and was weighing one of Patsys breasts in her hand idly. 'Well no, not until very recently I'll admit although given events I imagine you'll be there more often now."

"Go, dream me." Patsy mumbled with feeling as Delia pressed another kiss to her throat, her nose rubbing on the underside of Patsys chin.

"I like the way your skin smells. It smells like salt and grass. Never smelled anything quite like it. S'nice." Delias lips puckered as she spoke and tinged with faint self consciousness. Patsy chuckled and ran her index finger down Delias side from ribs to hip watching in fascination as the skin she touched raised up in small goosebumps.

"I wanted to see you in the morning, been imagining what you might look like since I got here. I'm glad I've been able to see it." Beautiful. Delia was beautiful.

"You make it sound like you won't again." Delia said carefully, her tone casual but her touch lightened like she was readying herself to pull back as she looked up to squint at Patsy. Patsy merely tightened her hold more securely and kissed Delias cheek. The expanse of flesh was hot where their skin had lain together all night. She sighed.

"No, that's not what I meant... but I have got to go. I don't want to lie to you, I've got responsibilities." The kids. Patsy had to get them or she'd never be able to look at herself in the mirror again. She was not a liar and she loved them too much to be their greatest disappointment.

"Responsibilities...' Delia spoke the world like they were inevitable and then lay back down to press her cheek against Patsys shoulder. 'Hate that word... I knew you'd have to go."

The reality was looming over them both that what they had done might change nothing. Seperation was a sharp wound neither could avoid. But Patsy was not going to leave this house knowing she'd ruined everything. There was no reason she could not stake her claim on Delias heart. She just had to be brave enough to try and surely Delia was worth a little bravery?

She did, Patsy told herself bluntly. Delia deserved every bit of bravery that Patsy possessed. Even so, it was a struggle to let go of old habits.

"But when I go I... I'd like to come back. Frequently?" Patsy winced at her own awkwardness. It was always so hard to say what she really wanted.

Delia, thankfully, seemed to have understood what Patsy didn't quite know how to say as she moved forward to stare at her. Beaming.

"I'd like that too...' Delia said shyly before seemingly becoming distracted as she cocked her head thoughtfully. 'Patsy?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you say hello in sign?"

Patsy looked down at Delia, her limbs melting when their eyes met and slowly demonstrated the sign; flattening her palm and sweeping it up into a little arc from right to left. Smiling faintly, Delia copied the motion and they both grinned stupidly.

"Why did you want to know that?" Patsy asked curiously, of all the things to ask of her that request had been unlikely. Delia rolled her eyes and traced Patsys nose fondly with her finger.

"So that when I see you next time, I can make sure you hear it even if you don't want to listen. You can be painfully stubborn you know." She said it like it was obvious, her eyes dark and Patsy wanted to kiss her. The jolting urge to hold on to Delia and not let her go was hard to ignore.

"Ten days and you think you've got me all figured out eh?" Patsy managed shakily and watched with pleasure as Delia rubbed her chin, her lips pursed.

"Not figured out exactly, don't worry you can still play the whole riddle thing if you want but the bold print bits definitely stood out." And oh, wasn't it shocking how Delia didn't say it like it was a bad trait, didn't sound as though she found Patsy frustrating or a disappointment and Patsy, right then and there, wanted to tell the woman that she could ask of her whatever she wanted. Could know everything if she wanted to. Patsy would give her everything she had if Delia would only request it.

"I really like you Delia." Patsy stuttered, her chin bumping against the woman's fingers as she spoke.

Like? Like was rapidly dwindling into the wrong sphere of language here. Delia was going to become a wonderful conundrum if she carried on.

"That's good... Because I really like you too Patience." Delia said easily, like it was the simplest thing to admit in the world and Patsy liked Delia so very much. Delia was braver than Patsy could ever be.

Her tongue seemed to swell. Patsy wanted to say crazy things to this woman. Patsy wanted... In a faltering bid to change the subject Patsy broke their contact and looked around the room.

Golden sunlight spilled from the windows and onto the floor. Dust idled in a laconic satellite dance around one another and called Patsys memory to the present. What needed to be done.

"The suns coming up." Patsy said bleakly. It was truth at last. The day was here. Yesterday's tonight had turned to today's morning and she needed to go.

"I know.' Delia said quietly, turning to look at the rays sadly. 'I don't suppose we can ignore it can we?"

Patsy felt the weight of Delia keenly, the press of her deeds and actions wavering as insubstantial as the suns rays in her mind. She wanted so desperately to turn from the facts of the time but Fern and Seppie were just as real as Delia. And they were waiting for her too.

"No, I can't.' Patsy said apologetically. 'I made promises I can't break." She wouldn't break them. She would not be like so many disappointments in her childhood; her own aunt had discarded her when they tracked her down. The sting of the rejection had wounded far too deeply and Patsy would not be that. She was not that kind of bastard.

"So... Still the aura of mystery around today?" Delia said lightly, her fingers winding around a strand of Patsys hair.

Patsy watched the top of Delias dark hair, the warmth of her body against Patsys was comforting, safe and painfully enticing. She didn't want to leave any of this moment, not one inch of Delia, and yet there really was no way she could stay. Responsibilities were spelled out clearly in black and white. But... Delia could at least be privy to why. Answers were cheap currency but Delia would probably appreciate them.

"I'm picking up the girls today. They're going to stay at mine." Patsy said quietly enjoying the small victorious smile at Patsys honesty that flashed across Delias face. It was gone in an instant as Delia looked up, her expression mildly innocent and Patsy liked it, liked everything about the woman.

"Today? I thought they couldn't leave their home?" Delia asked with interest. Patsy sighed and rubbed a small circle around a freckle on Delias shoulder.

"The formalities can be taken care of later, they need to be safe Delia. Everyone deserves that." The kids deserved that. Deserved so much more than Patsy come to think of it.

"I could come with you?" Delia offered hesitantly, testing out her role for the future maybe and Patsy blinked stupidly, a scary and new part of her wanted to say yes almost immediately but then she recalled Fern. Her fears from before that Patsy could negate her and Seppie to nothing.

"No.' Sighing, Patsy shook her head regretfully. 'Don't take it as a slight please, it's not but... I need to do this for them on my own. Taking someone else, well, I don't want them to freak out."

"At least let me make you breakfast. I think you'll need it, we hardly ate that stew."

The question was momentarily stalled when there came an unexpected soft tinkle from downstairs, Patsys arms tensed, the half formed fear from yesterday punched her in the guts as she looked around towards the door.

"What was that?" She asked tensely but Delia didn't seem in the slightest way concerned as she continued to play with Patsys hair distractingly.

"Boiler probably. This house creaks like mad. So... Breakfast?" Delia seemed far more interested in her line of thought than house noises and, lulled by the gentle feel of her hands, Patsy relaxed back into the moment.

"I should probably take them for breakfast somewhere, I doubt they've eaten all that much. They eat like they've got worms. Got to get some food in, got to do a lot of things really." Patsy stared at her finger still curving Delias freckle feeling tired at just thinking of the endless list. This day was going to be hella expensive; beds, she needed to get the girls beds too.

That meant DIY and borrowing the drill from her neighbours.

"I could help? I know a few eBay sellers, we had to get rid of stuff when we moved here. I could ring around for things if you write me a list. I could bring it over to yours later, maybe get some food in for dinner?" Delia was still trying to seem casual but the surging sensation of clutching at straws was growing.

Patsy felt it too, the pull of what had to be done against the want to rush what was happening here. But if Elvis Presley had taught her one thing it was that only fools rushed in.

"I don't know...' Patsy cupped Delias jaw and pressed a soft kiss to Delias lips. They opened in response and it was hard not to fall into the feeling of being wanted. Delia was right there, totally willing and welcoming, but Patsy couldn't do it. With a huge effort she tugged her face back unable to stop the bubbling happiness as Delia sighed in disappointment. Patsy loved that sound. 'Can I call you and give an answer when I know how the girls are? I don't want to overwhelm them by bringing someone else around too quickly."

"You could say I was a friend?" Delia offered weakly, her leg slowly withdrawing and Patsy stopped it swiftly, refusing to break apart yet.

"Delia Busby you big fat fibber, as if I could introduce you as a friend." God the idea alone was hilarious. Patsy could not imagine Fern believing for one moment that particular lie when she saw them together. Patsy didn't think she'd ever be able to look at Delia and not remember what it was like to be inside her.

"Oh.' Delias face had shuttered at Patsys words and she really did move away, sitting up and fingering the covers distractedly, her cheeks glowing with embarrassment, 'Sorry. I'm being presumptuous aren't I? I know we haven't really talked about what this is."

Patsys grin faded at their separation. She realised what Delia was getting at and, though this was usually her cue to leave, sat up, following Delias path and reached to hold Delias hand comfortingly.

"When I introduce you to those two kids,' Patsy said in a clear, authoritative voice, 'you will not be my friend. I'm not saying I know what you will be, we- We can work that out as we go I guess but you aren't just a friend. You're more than that." Patsy felt her legs give the ghost of a tug as she free fell into unknown territory but hell, if she was going to fall she was going to do it with definitive stupidity dammit!

Delias picked mouth flickers as it registered surprise for a moment. She stared down at their joined hands and then, Patsys heart beat a little faster to see it, a creeping vision of pleasure dawned over her face. She looked up at Patsy in a sort of unrestrained happiness.

"I'm more?' Delia whispered as she bit her lip and shook her head. 'When have you got to go?"

"Err,' Patsy looked around her uselessly but there wasn't any clocks to guide her. The sun was rising and the day was here though. 'Pretty soon I think. Carpe diem and all that."

Delia didn't reply straight away, Patsy couldn't be sure that she was even listening anymore, Delia was looking at Patsy like she didn't care about time all that much and Patsys eyes dropped down to her exposed chest, a dull hunger building in her. Delia was beautiful in the morning and Patsy didn't want to get out of this bed yet.

"I could make you something to drink?" Delia said in a low voice, her clever hand reaching to stroke Patsys arm and Patsy didn't care about tea right now. Didn't care about the day ahead, in this moment Patsy just wanted it to sit knowing the way Delia looked at her-

"Tea would be nice." Patsy said in an almost shaky voice as her own hand stretched out helplessly without her active permission to brush her fingers along the shape of Delias naked hips. Delia answered her quickly, shifting forward just a little and then Patsy was holding her a too hard to be casual anymore.

Casual? Patsy felt herself chuckle audibly at the idiotic notion. None of this was fucking casual anymore and Patsy loved it the same way bungee jumpers loved jumping off mountains. Scary but so, so worth it.

"I make good tea." Delia whispered, her head angling up for another kiss and Patsy wanted everything. Wanted this woman and the day and the life she hadn't experienced yet. Wanted to believe she deserved such freedom.

"Oh, fuck tea." Patsy murmured as she kissed Delia soundly, her hand flexing just so as Delia cradled her neck, their tongues finding each other as they both breathed in tandem.

Patsy wanted to taste Delia, wanted to carry a piece of her with her when she left and the knowledge that she could come back. She'd be welcomed here. Delia surged forward, her chest curving into Patsys and they both gasped, their mouths curving into something like pleasure.

It was then that the door to the spare bedroom chose to explode open in a shower of plaster dust. It swung around and banged against the wall. Hinges squeaked in useless protest as they attempted to close again, the slither of wood rebounding back towards the doorway speedily only to be stopped in its hasty withdrawals by a white knuckled hand.

Patsy reacted on instinct, a part of her always half ready for a fight these days. She disengaged from Delia with one gentle push against the smaller womans stomach and spun round to kneel on the mattress with Delia behind her. She was not about to give anymore ground to anyone. There was a lamp on the bedside table and Patsy tried to judge how quickly she could rip it from the wall and smash it over the assailants head. Pretty bloody quickly she reasoned.

Turning towards the door, her hand outstretched to spread across Delias bare front protectively, Patsy focused in on their attacker. She would-

"Jess!" Delia interrupted Patsys internal dramatics with one word. Her high pitch seemed to shake everyone out of the momentary shock.

Patsy looked up hastily to see that it was indeed Jessie standing in the doorway, seeming for all the world to be a shocked wife stumbling on an infidelity scene. You could have cut out her stunned righteous expression and pasted it into a bad copy of mills and boon. The hairs on Patsys neck raised.

She wished this sort of thing was unfamiliar to her. In respect to sleeping over it certainly was; the pissed off partner on the other hand... Well, at least, it wasn't a totally frequent experience.

Jessie looked pale, her face oddly bloodless and shadowed from the unlit hallway she half stood in. The whites of her eyes were almost yellow and closed to two identical slits. She swayed alarmingly where she stood staring at Delia and Patsy, her hold on the door only appearing to be half for effect. Patsy wondered if she was drunk. Her clothes were rumpled, her usually neat hair do looked dishevelled.

Slowly, as Patsy and Delia watched, guilty as charged, Jessie pointed a weaving finger towards them both, her mouth set in a hard line. Patsys jeans were hanging off the end of the digit with a very obvious air of 'exhibit A' in a crime scene.

"So!" Jessie said impressively, evidently pleased to find herself the centre of the rooms attention. 'So!"

She sounded like a cheap detective from a badly scripted tv programme. Patsy would have dearly liked to have said, 'so what' as Jessie weaved haphazardly before them but from Delias nervous fidgeting beside her Patsy abstained. With a jolt she felt the bedding shift slightly around her and then the cool press of cotton against her chest as Delia hurriedly dragged up the covers to conceal Patsys upper torso from view.

"So!' Jessie breathed again, her voice slurred just a tiny bit, the extended finger seeming to want to stab at them from across the distance. 'I knew it!"

Patsy stared mutely, at a loss for what to do and looked towards Delia for some sort of guidance. Sure, she could probably get involved and drag Jessie away but this was Delias ex. It was her party so to speak.

"Jessie." Delia huffed groggily, still busy holding up the covers above the line of Patsys boobs. 'What the hell are you doing here?"

"Doing? What am I doing here?' Jessie parroted in a passible impression of Delias accent twisted into a babyish drawl, her eyes crossing into gormless cruelty obviously meant to mimic Delia, 'You're asking me what I'm doing here, in my own fucking home when you're in bed with some, some, some' Jessie faltered, obviously struggling to voice all of the names she had circling her brain for Patsy before settling rather anticlimactically on; 'nasty, home wrecker."

"Jess." Delia warned heavily but Jessie wasn't listening. Had probably been writing this script on her way over Patsy guessed dispassionately.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm here for Delia Anne Busby, I'm here to see if it's all true. I have eyes everywhere you know and I actually almost didn't believe what I was hearing from them when they told me."

"Spies?' Delia scoffed, 'What spies? Number 86 with the binoculars across the road is hardly bond Jessie."

"I don't mean Gladys!' Jessie said angrily, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wavering more on each treacherous curve. She looked mad. 'I came to see if you were as big a hypocrite as you seem to be. Rules have changed about cheating has it sweetheart?"

"Stop pointing at us. You look ridiculous." Delia said curtly to Jessie, her face hard, her hand now holding the covers up to Patsys neck so that Patsy looked like a bizarre version of a cheap magicians assistant sans sparkles.

"I look ridiculous?' Jessie seethed shrilly but the comment seemed to have worked somehow. She dropped her pointing finger angrily, Patsys jeans hit the ground with a dull thunk and straightened up to fill the doorway impressively. 'I'm not the one sleeping with the town bike you stupid bitch."

"Patsy. She has a name and she's not a bike. I'd like you not to talk about her like that." Delia said with strained politeness, the hand holding the sheet against Patsy was balled into a tight fist.

"Patsy? Patsy?' Jessie repeated in the same sing song babyish version of Delias accent again. 'It's not Patsy you should be worrying about. It's me. How dare you! In our spare room? I'm surprised you haven't got her picking out fucking Christmas decorations."

"We were thinking of summer BBQs first actually." Patsy couldn't have stopped herself for all the tea in China; the snark just slipped through momentarily untightened lips. Jessie paused just long enough to understand Patsys retort and swear choicely while Delia edged forward an inch or so and flashed Patsy a sharp 'let me deal with this' look.

"Jess, look,' Delia began in a slow, appeasing tone that Patsy disliked on sheer principle, 'let's go downstairs together and just-"

"I'll fucking decide what we do and when we do it Delia!" Jessie hissed petulantly and Patsy wondered if the woman had any idea how much of a child she sounded like right now.

Probably not a good time to point this out though.

"Jess-" Delia began again, the appeasing tone fading like ice cream set before a blow torch but Jessie wasn't in a place to read tones, she was pacing a tight two step line backwards and forwards across the carpet. Her fists curling and uncurling under their watchful gaze and her eyes glaring at Delia mutinously.

"I cannot believe it of you; little perfect Delia turned bad.' Jessie let out a gutless cackle as she turned the knife, 'To think I was going to come here and apologise. Pity you didn't save any of that for me, I might not have needed to go elsewhere to get an ounce of fucking satisfaction.'

Patsy felt her mouth let out an involuntary hiss at this jibe and jerked forward to get out of bed but Delias other hand quelled her with a swift squeeze on her leg as Jessie went on.

'-Turns out you're worse than me after all, I never brought a girl into our home! Turns out Delia you're nothing more than a dirty-"

"It's hardly the same thing.' This time it was Delia who interrupted and her face was turning rapidly red in contrast with Jessies pallid white. 'You and I aren't in a relationship anymore Jess. I've made that perfectly clear. We have nothing more to say to one another on that matter. Patsy has nothing to do with this in anyway so I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking about her like she's dirt on your shoe."

"Oh but this is rich.' Jessie let out a mirthless sneer as she stepped a little more into the room, directing her gaze towards Patsy now, zeroing in on Delias obvious weak point like all good bullies. 'And you? I suppose you're that much of a whore to let her defend your honour so stupidly. Delia, stop being your usual idiotic self and drop the covers won't you, its not like I haven't seen it all before. You realise Delia that she's already fucked me long before you."

"I'm aware yes.' Delia said a little more crisply. 'And that fact does not negate anything that I've said. I want you to leave. Now Jess."

"I want her out of our house." Jessie ordered haughtily, either not appearing to have heard Delia or to simply not care to obey.

"It's my house.' Delia corrected swiftly, her yes blazing now. 'And Patsy is quite welcome to stay as long as she wants. You on the other hand aren't."

"She's a fucking whore and you're a fool.' Jessie spat, little flecks of spit mingled in the suns rays as she stamped her foot hard against the floor, her hands slapping against her sides looking ever more like a tantruming two year old. 'She slept with me without even asking my name; she's probably riddled and you're putting our relationship and your health at risk for some slag!"

"I thought I've already asked; don't talk about her like that. Patsy and I have talked about it; she hadn't made me any promises when she slept with you but you Jess, you had. Get out." Delias control was slipping by the second, Patsy could sense the brewing storm by the slowing of her breaths.

In a bar fight this would be the time Patsy dived beneath a table for cover.

"Get out! Get out!' Again Jessie spoke in that baby version of Welsh. 'Are you mad, this is my home, I'm not going anywhere."

"Not anymore.' Delia growled, her fist was clenched so hard now it pressed unconsciously into Patsys collar bone almost painfully. 'This is my house and I don't want you anywhere near me."

"I have a right to be here; we need to talk."

"Then you should have called first if you wanted to see me." Delia parried back witheringly.

"Well,' Jessie swelled with ill advised indignation, 'if you'd have got your fingers out of her cunt for five minutes you might have heard me call you this morning on the way over here."

"Right, that's enough, you need to go." Delia pushed the covers against Patsys chest slightly in a wordless warning for half a second and then withdrew her hand to stand up beside the bed, her feet spread, her hands on her hips.

"I'm not going anywhere until we've sorted this mess out." Jessie shouted too loud in the small room. Delias answering laugh was bitter and mocking in equal measure.

"The only thing that would sort this mess out is a time machine Jess so that I could go back to the day I met you and change fate. We are over, do you hear me? You and I are a last page of a bad book. I don't love you, I don't want you and I certainly don't want you in my property. If you must stay then at least have the common decency to go downstairs and give me a moment to sort out this mess you've made up here."

"Oh dear,' Jessie said hoarsely, apparently strangled by her own rage, her face rapidly turning from white to the grey colour of old porridge, 'have I insulted you Delia? Have I ruined your fucking special moment?"

"As a matter of fact you have." Delia snapped shortly in reply.

"Aww poor ickle Delia, did she make you feel special?' In light of Delias continued dismissal it seemed that Jessie was resorting back to her baby version of Welsh to get a rise and from the vein throbbing in Delias temple she was making a terrible misjudgment. 'Did she hold your little hand and tell you you were special? Hmm? Bet she couldn't hold back laughter when she got you into bed though. Probably never seen so much stale meat since last weeks market day. I'll bet she made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. Tell me, what lie did she use when you told her about your fucked up gimpy leg?' Grinning horribly Jessie pointed her chin at Patsy now who glared back locked in mute reflected rage. 'Oh you should see it Pats, nothing finer than that creature limping over half way through the night. Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, it's-"

Wham!

Patsy had dropped the covers angrily at the derisive tone, preparing to launch at Jessie from across the room but Delia was already standing and she had gone one better. She'd crossed the space towards Jessie and swung out her arm as she went to build up momentum. The slap when it landed was not a lady like slap of dissent, it was a thick, whole arm crash of flesh against bone. It was a slap wearing boots.

The Busby clan were a long line of matriarchal tribes spanning generations gone by where what a man really looked for in a wife was a stable woman who thought nothing about wrestling a wolf on their way to feed the goats. There was enough ancestral power in a Busby womans forearm to pick up a grown man and Jessie wasn't even that. Jessie flew backwards, arms flailing uselessly, with the force of the blow to her face and hit the carpeted floor in a skidding sprawl to eventually lay face down and keening gently as she cupped her reddening jaw.

Patsy realised her mouth was hanging open as Delia massages her wrist to get the blood back and Jessie groaned, still rubbing stupidly against the side of her jaw. Breathing through her mouth Delia disregarded her fallen ex and crouched down to pluck up Patsys jeans.

"I think it's best if we don't say any more about that. Go to the kitchen now or I will throw you down the stairs. I want to speak to Patsy."

Delia turned on her heel as Jessie grumbled wordlessly apparently completely disinterested. Jessies face looked shocked more than anything, her white face was stained with a red handprint but she didn't didn't seem brave enough to say anything else, backing out of the room on her bum.

Delia kept her back to her the whole time, her eyes seeking Patsys who suddenly did not want to meet them. She trained her eyes along the duvet pattern purposely, feeling both ashamed of her actions and terribly guilty for giving Jessie a reason to abuse Delia.

When she seemed certain Jessie really had gone Delia deposited the jeans on top of the duvet. Her hands were shaking.

"I'm so sorry Pats. She shouldn't have said that about you... she's just bitter. I hope,' Delia took a deep breath through her nose before starting again in terrible formal tones. 'I hope you're not too offended by me for what just happened" Delia sounded close to tears when she spoke, uncommon uncertainty ringing across the void between them and it was this that rallied Patsy enough to look up.

"Me? Be offended by you?' Patsy whispered disbelievingly. 'What on earth for, you were brilliant but... I'm sorry Delia. I shouldn't have put you in this position. I was selfish. Stupid." It was about time Patsy learned to look with her eyes dammit. Delia deserved someone who could hang the moon and Patsy? Patsy was-

"Don't!' And suddenly Delia was half sitting on Patsys outstretched leg, her hands cupping Patsys jaw and forcing their eyes to meet. 'Don't talk about what we've done, what I bloody well intent to do again very soon, like that. Don't you dare Pats. Last night was exactly as it should have been and if you're about to tell me you never want to do it again then...' Delia swallowed convulsively, 'then I won't try and change your mind but don't listen to Jessie please. Listen to me, no matter what, I want you to understand that I wanted you and I've never felt happier. Never."

Patsy felt her throat seal closed and for a moment she didn't quite know what to say. Delia stared down at her with far too much tenderness, more, she knew, than she'd ever deserve.

But maybe... Maybe if she tried? Maybe if Patsy worked really hard... Then maybe she could become someone who deserved that? Delia certainly seemed to think so.

Words. Patsy was so bad at words.

In the end she fell back to the method of communication she understood best. Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia as hard as she could and kissed her jaw. It wasn't poetry or a fancy dinner at a swanky restaurant but it was honest at least. Patsy wished she could put everything she felt into that hug and perhaps it worked somehow because when Delia ended their moment her smile was genuine. Her touch still warm.

"You should put on your clothes.' Delia suggested, turning grim again as she released Patsys hand reluctantly. 'I think any other option is out the window now."

In the end Patsy did as she was told. Her jeans felt bulky against clammy legs as she pulled them up and then, when Delia sought them out and handed it over, shrugged on her now rumpled shirt.

Shoes. Where were her boots? Car keys? Wallet?

Even though she knew it was pointless, habit still made Patsy pat her back pocket for clues. Seeing this, Delia pointed downstairs with a thumb, her own shorts now hoiked securely around her waist. Patsy blushed as she recalled pulled them down.

Despite the complete inappropriateness of the thought Patsy could not prevent herself from reflecting in that moment on how she didn't think there was anything quite as appealing as those grey shorts on Delia in the world. It was definitely an unconventional aphrodisiac but it was certainly doing the trick for her.

They made their way soundlessly down the stairs. Delia hurriedly pulled open a drawer in the hallway dresser as soon as they hit solid ground and began rummaging around its contents with gusto. The kitchen door was closed ahead although through the wood came uninvitingly ceramic crashing sounds that suggested Jessie was throwing mugs at the new yellow wall.

Delia sighed as she passed Patsy her keys and wallet while Patsy slid into her boots that had been lined up neatly by the door yesterday but were now strewn either end of the hall as though kicked by someone. Jessie.

"I hate that we're parting like this." Delia said as Patsy tucked her phone securely in her back pocket with a resentful eye flick towards the kitchen.

"I know... I feel the same. Look, are you going to be okay with, you know, everything?" By everything Patsy definitely meant Jessie who unhelpfully chose that moment to throw another mug against the wall. Hard. It was like nails on the blackboard of Patsys soul as she wished she could march through the house and give Jessie a matching slap mark. To her credit Delia didn't even wince.

"Oh yes' Delia said smiling nastily, 'don't worry about me and Jessie. I'm more than ready for her but never mind me now; you've got enough on your plate. Can I ring you later tonight? I want to hear how it all goes, see if you need anything."

"If you want to.' Patsy mumbled, ducking her head shyly. Not knowing how to say goodbye without adding all the other things she couldn't quite or into words yet. 'I might not be able to talk too much though."

Delia seemed to pause for a moment as Jessie's shoes clacked on the kitchen floor impatiently. Glancing behind her irritably Delia leaned forward and reached for Patsys hand. Squeezing encouragingly.

"I'm not expecting Shakespeare Patsy, don't worry about that. Will you try though? Do you want to?"

Patsys hand gripped Delias tightly, reluctant to let go, wishing she could bring Delia with her and knowing she couldn't. This was worth a bit of time dammit, so they didn't mess it up with their own clumsy wants.

"For you?' Patsy said to their interlinked fingers, her ears burning. 'I'll definitely try."

Delia sighed and with one final squeeze pulled away even as she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Patsys lips. Once. Twice.

Felt like a promise.

"Then I can't ask much more; good luck sweetheart."

"Yeah.' Patsy felt a bit dazed as Delia stepped back, her shoulders slumping as she resignedly looked back towards the kitchen. 'Good luck right back with... Everything."

Patsy didn't know quite what else to say, the part of her that seemed to have grown and developed from their evening together gnashed its teeth in frustration while a second but equally fervent voice told her it was time to go.

Delia made it all the more simpler in the end by turning away, seeming to understand that Patsy would not leave on her own steam. They didn't say anything else as Patsy left the house.

The front door seemed to close with a ringing finality behind Patsy as she trudged dejectedly towards the front gate and down the winding lane.

Forcing herself not to turn on her heel and march right back into Delias house and the obvious domestic taking place within the four walls Patsy distracted herself by attempting to call Helen.

Yet again she was met with Helens crisp official answer phone and this time a frisson of genuine concern picked at her. What was going on? Feeling a little annoyed that Helen was still not picking up calls, Patsy left another short message for her to call Patsy when she got a moment while thinking privately that the older generation really needed to sort their shit out when it came to modern technology. Honestly, what was the point in having a mobile phone if you were just going to leave it at the bottom of a handbag?

In a burst of inspiration Patsy dialled Helens office but given that today was a Sunday no one answered there either. Patsy left a more formal message on Helens work phone asking politely for her to get into contact when she had a moment.

Patsy had briefly considered taking the kids over to Helens after they'd had breakfast. Fern would probably be unnerved by the sense of family there but Seppie would like Helens garden and, come to think of it, a grandmotherly type who'd be willing to feed her inadvisably large quantities of sugar was always a winner to a five year old.

Heaving a sigh at one more opportunity lost Patsy pocketed the phone and ploughed on towards the beach and the car park she'd left her jeep in. If Jessie hadn't have turned up Delia would probably have driven Patsy to her car Patsy thought grumpily as the swipe of blue on the horizon told her she was about ten minutes from her destination. Jessie had cost them all valuable time this morning, Patsy probably would already be with the kids by now if-

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and distracted her griping sharply. Thinking it would finally be Helen she pulled out the thing quickly, a fissure of excitement running through her as she imagined Helens reaction to her news. God she hoped the old bird didn't cry, Patsy never knew what to say when that happened.

But it was not Helens name that glowed up from the white screen. It was Ferns. Patsy stopped abruptly, her boots scraping against loose stoned side road and hurriedly pressed the green button, already preparing herself for the mingled sadness and excitement that surely should be the impetus for this call.

"Hey kid, I'm on my way now. I'll be about-"

But quite what she'd been just about to do fell immediately into nothingness. The frisson of doubt and fear that she'd been riding since yesterday fell across Patsy in a surge of inevitability as she realised that something was truly, awfully wrong. Ferns breathing was ragged, pained as she panted her panic down the phone. She sounded as though she was running, the steady beat of her trainers hitting hard tarmac jolted rhythmically in the background. Patsy had mere half seconds to register surprise and worry before Fern landed her first blow.

The teenagers voice, when she spoke, was past anguish, past frustration or anger. It was terror. A child's terror at a world too big for her and Patsy felt it like a fist in the chest.

"He's got Seppie! Patsy he's here! And he's got Seppie!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter this week guys. I'll insert the dun dun duuuun here since I won't in the actual story. Cliff hanger alert and all that.
> 
> Next chapter is going to have to be so bloody long. *sigh* consider the bottle to be shook.
> 
> SB


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

"He's got Seppie! Patsy he's here! And he's got Seppie!"

Patsy hadn't realised she'd frozen on the spot as she took the incomprehensible statement in. He's got Seppie! Ferns words were impossible. How? Why?

He's got Seppie. He's got _Seppie_. _He's got Seppie!_

It didn't make any sense. It simply could not be, Patsys brain tried to find a way that Ferns words could be wrong and somehow couldn't do it.

Not Seppie. Not Seppie! No! Not Seppie! 

"Fuck!' Patsy felt the words slip between her lips as her brain took a brief holiday in hell. Abraham had Seppie? No!

Not Seppie. Not Seppie. Not Seppie!

"Pats, where are you!" Fern wailed. She was still running, endlessly running to where? What the hell had happened. Patsy had to understand. If she didn't understand she couldn't do anything.

"I'm right here. I'm right here Fern, I'm coming for you."

The jeep was five minutes away, the blue gate for the car park was ahead and Patsy was suddenly breaking into a sprint; running towards it with the cold press of the phone cutting into her cheek. Move mount.

She had to get to the girls.

"I don't know what to do... Patsy!" Fern was still running but to Patsy it seemed that she was running out of fuel, her breathing was pretty close to blown out and Patsy needed her to stay still long enough to explain.

"I'm coming Fern! I'm on my way, what's happened? Are you hurt? Is someone chasing you?"

"N-No... Don't think so." Fern gasped, still running to somewhere safe that didn't exist.

"Okay...' Patsy was at the door of the truck and scrabbling at the lock, her hands were shaking, 'in that case you need to stop running sweetheart."

"I can't. He's got-" Fern expectorated confusedly.

"I know.' Patsy was in the car and jamming her keys into the ignition, the Bluetooth seemed to take an age to kick in as the engine turned over a little rusty from its ten day stint in sea air. 'I know sweetheart and I'm coming to you now but you need to stop and tell me where you are. Stop running Fern, I know it's hard but stop somewhere safe and catch your breath."

Patsy rolled out of the car park, dust clouds puffing out from where the tyres tracked dirt with the speed of their turns. Her thumbs pulsed as she sat waiting tensely for Fern to do as she'd instructed. The sound of pacing feet lessened as Fern gasped and spluttered, the sound coming through a little echoey as Fern doubled over to stop a pain in her side.

"Kay... m'kay- Pats, you have to get here, he's got Seppie!" Fern was crying with panic and Patsy needed her to calm down. Hated herself for not being able to give the girl a break.

"I'm on my way, I understand that. Take a deep breath, clear your thoughts and explain what is happening Fern." Patsy slipped into cop mode too easily. It irritated her even as a part of her inside curled up in a ball and wept.

"I can't, he's got her. My mums in there." Fern was crying, adrenaline making her spit her thoughts out too quickly.

"Fern!' Patsy didn't particularly want to shout at the kid right now but it was one of those tricks that always seemed to work. Fern needed to be snapped out of her fear. It was all Patsy could do. Ferns breathing gradually became a little easier. 'Good. That's it... Start at the beginning, I'm on my way and I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"I... I slept in.' Fern whispered after a long pause, her voice quailing, 'I couldn't sleep last night so I fell asleep late and I didn't wake up like normal and I slept in."

"Okay... And then what happened?" The road was mercifully empty as Patsy swung through empty streets; taking red lights and hair pin turns at stupid speeds.

"When I woke up those men were there; that Abraham guy and the other one, they were sitting in the living room all nice and everything and I remembered what you said about getting out of there but I couldn't find Seppie. She wasn't in our room and I don't know where she was hiding."

"So she could have gone out already?" Patsy pressed on, her boot ramming onto the accelerator as the sides of the truck shook when she hit 90. It wasn't built for speed.

"She wouldn't do that!' Fern shouted, 'She doesn't go out without me or you or Allie. She's got to be in there somewhere."

"Okay, okay so she's in there but they don't know that. What was Abraham doing in there?" Patsy tried to imagine the scene but couldn't. She just saw Abraham as he had been to her. Big and powerful and deadly.

"He was talking to Mick, he wasn't shouting or anything but the other guy had a knife Pats. I saw it in his hand and Allie was begging them about something and then he saw me in the door. Abraham. And..' Fern started to cry again and Patsy had to concentrate to understand which was hard when her own thoughts were trying to drown her. 'He told me to watch him, said it was a game and he... he..." Ferns breathing was speeding up again as she remembered.

"I'm almost there sweetheart. Keep talking to me." Patsy felt like she was begging. She didn't want to know but she was the adult here and this was Fern and she couldn't not know.

"They stabbed Allie in the neck.' Fern gasped like she was the one hurt. 'They stabbed my mum Pats. And Abraham just sat there and laughed and I was so scared. She was bleeding and rolling about and Mick was yelling and I ran away Patsy. I ran away and I left her in there. With those men. Seppies in there."

Patsys knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she forced her eyes to stay on the road ahead. She was ten minutes out at best and there was traffic up ahead.

"Where are you now?" Patsy asked gently as Fern sobbed.

"I dunno... A few streets away? I don't know what to do; I just need you to be here."

"I'm coming, I'm on my way but I'm going to have to ask you to be brave for me kid.' God Patsy was one hell of a shit saviour. 'I need you to be my eyes. Can you go back, don't go in the flats, hide around the corner and check to see if they're still in there. You know their car don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." Fern whispered cautiously. She still sounded scared.

Clever girl.

"Do you think you can do that for me? Can you go there and not be seen?"

"Like in a spy movie?" Fern asked with a mad sort of giggle between snorts. Probably going into a kind of shock.

"Yeah, just like a spy film." Patsy replied easily. Wishing she was able to teleport just so Fern didn't have to do this; every protective nerve cell in her body was telling her that she doing the wrong thing right now by sending Fern towards danger.

But she had to know what was happening.

"Okay... Okay I'll do it." Fern still sounded like she was going into shock. Patsy listened carefully to the silence as Fern crept back towards the danger. Poised to listen for something the girl might miss. Helpless until she got there.

"What do you see?" Patsy asked after a while, the tension killing her.

"I can see the car. They're still in there... Wait! They're coming out now."

"Have they got Seppie, what are they doing?" Describe it to me Fern, Patsy willed her hands to stay still. She needed to drive as she manoeuvred through traffic.

"They're just laughing... I can't see the knife or anything, they definitely don't have Seppie she's still in the flat I think. They're getting in the car." Fern was whispering so quietly it was hard to make out her words but Patsy could imagine a scene in her head of what the flat could look like. And then-

"They've gone.' Relief was flooding Ferns voice and Patsy didn't trust any of it. It was all too easy. 'They've gone around the corner. I'll go and get Sep-"

"No!" Patsy snapped through Ferns pleasure as fear bit bone deep; images of what could have happened in that flat whizzed through her mind. She might be wrong but she doubted it. Abraham didn't do lose strings and Patsy didn't want Fern to go up those stairs or to go into that flat. Patsy would be the one to do that, she would spare Fern this one thing. Just in case she was right.

God, let her be wrong for once about stuff like this.

"I'll just go in and get her.' Burbled Fern in a quagmire of relief that Patsy couldn't share. 'It'll be fine honest, I'll be like one-"

Patsy felt her stomach sink when Fern stopped talking abruptly. Patsy couldn't stop, the road wound ever on ahead of her and she needed to get to the kids. She was still maybe ten minutes out.

"What's happening now?" Patsy asked tensely into the phone speaker dock. She couldn't even hear Fern breathing anymore.

"Fern?"

Fern didn't reply, the phone her end rattled like her hand was shaking.

"Fern? You got to speak to me kid, what's happening now?" Patsy fidgeted in her seat anxiously as she took another corner overlooking the sea. Silence only meant things were bad. It didn't mean it was worse case.

"Fire." Fern whispered. Patsy nerves jangled as something slid into place inside her head. Not fire please not fire.

"What was that?" Patsy asked in a strained voice, the muscles in her neck tensing and making it stiff. It was hard to breathe.

"FIRE!' Ferns voice returned in time to grow up into a scream of anguish, the truth buzzing through the phone like a tornado over a prairie. 'My flats on fire."

"Fern don't do anything stupid." Patsy shouted uselessly. It was useless. Fern had already dropped the phone, her running feet fading away.

Patsy swore to the unhearing car interior and sped up more.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

\--

Carnage and chaos reigned supreme as the dawn was stained a bloody red.

Fire. A lot of fire was scorching through the roof of the flats. Micks flat. Seppie. Thick smoke choked the skyline where it should have been sunshine and clear blue calm. Ash fluttered down on the dry wind and burnt the peoples cheeks, the smell of diesel and panic was palpable amongst the watching crowd.

Oh, and there was a crowd. Scenes like this always drew big crowds. This one was so big Patsy had to be careful not to run anyone over as she parked messily on the grass. Lots of children and parents huddled under blankets against the reflected lights of fire engines, clogging up the small through road.

Patsy scanned the mass of pyjama clad children scattered around the greenery in the dim hope that at least one of them would be hers.

Maybe Seppie had got out? It could happen couldn't it? In films that shit happened all the time.

She spotted Fern after a few heart thumping minutes; pressed closely to the fire engine nearest the building. The girl was screaming at a member of the fire staff who looked to be rapidly running out of patience while his peers began setting up a perimeter line to stop any idiots playing at being a hero. The sounds of sirens cut through the early morning mist, the blue lights stained pale and dark faces alike. Hundreds of upturned faces all staring wide eyed at the burning flats.

Fern was ramming against the fireman now, trying to push past and Patsy sped up as she saw the person shrouded in thick uniform shake their head and shove the girl away with a rough swipe a few feet. Fern staggered at the impact but didn't look too hurt. She was already rushing back to try again.

Something about the lean frame prodded at some internal filing system of Patsys. Not a fireman, a firewoman. Patsy recognised the close cut crop as it gleamed in the engines light, she recalled heavy muscled legs and started sprinting towards the pair as Fern made another desperate but fruitless attack on the block. Her tearful rant eased into Patsys ears as she neared.

"They're fucking still in there! You have to go!" Fern was half sobbing, her face taught as her fists bunched and swung dangerously at her sides. The fireman was indeed female and Patsy knew her in the round about fashion way that all emergency staff knew one another.

Kim Sanders was about ten years older than Patsy with almost scalp short salt and pepper hair and an invisible yet very clear 'don't fuck with me' attitude that seemed to be tattooed on her forehead. The firewoman was an old acquaintance of Patsys and her eyebrows lifted in mute recognition as she turned to see who it was running towards them.

"Mount?" Sanders grunted as Patsy skid a foot away from the struggling pair and scuttled up hurriedly to Fern. Not waiting to give a response Patsy wrapped a warning arm across the girls shoulders. Kim wasn't known for her fluffy attitude towards any children. From what Patsy could hurriedly dredge from the sludge of memory she couldn't recall the woman preferring mouthy teenagers either.

"Sanders.' Patsy replied perfunctorily back as her attention zeroed in on Fern who was shaking; with anger or fear it was hard to tell. 'What's happening, why aren't you in the building yet?"

"We-" Kim began in an oppressive voice as she folded thick forearms over her puffy jacket but Fern cut over her. Irate with terror.

"She's going to let them fucking die Pats! My mum and dad and sister are in there and she's not going to do anything! She's just going to fucking stand there and do nothing."

"Supposed family members.' Kim snapped, the gleaming tendons in her arms flexed irritably, 'you can't even tell me where they might be."

"They're in the flat you idiot. The flat that's burning down!" Fern shouted at Kim, tears trickling down her cheeks as she vibrated on the spot beneath Patsys. Her fists were bouncing against her sides so hard now that every hit rocked her further into Patsy.

"And can you give me a room? A valid description of layout? Can you give me any useful information at all?' Kim asked sourly then discarded Fern to look towards Patsy as though appealing to a higher power, 'she said there was a mystery man in there with a weapon, we're not equipped for that sort of thing. None of my men are getting stabbed."

Not for some pieces of trash that live in these flats. Patsy still heard the unspoken ending to that statement even if Kim knew better than to say it.

Patsy felt Ferns indrawn gasp more than heard it and then the girl was flying forward as it became apparent that she too had heard what hadn't been said aloud. Somehow Patsy just managed to grab the girls fist as it swung weakly towards the fifteen stone fire woman who could probably dead lift Ferns weight if she wanted to. Sanders was in the county boxing club too, she wasn't someone anyone fucked with. In a bid to stop another problem happening that no one needed right now Patsy gripped Fern by the scruff of the neck lightning fast and dragged her around to crush the girls face into Patsys chest. Her arms locked around Ferns back tightly and squeezed a mute warning while Fern screamed into her t-shirt.

There was no time for Patsy to be distracted by Ferns impending rap sheet for assault.

Kim was glaring at Patsy now, clearly under no illusions as to what had just almost happened and less than impressed by it all. Patsy made a snap executive decision that Fern wasn't the right person to gain information from right now. As though to prove her right Patsy felt Ferns legs buckle as Fern started to hyperventilate and her sudden languor forced Patsy to hold onto her tighter to stop the girl from collapsing. Kim was watching them both with faint interest now and when Patsy could spit the words past her screaming brain she addressed them to the older woman.

Trying to be reasonable but struggling.

"Kim... We've known one another a long time. I've never known you to leave someone who needed you. What's the real reason, why aren't you doing anything?" Up til now Patsy had always quite liked the bullish woman. Kim might look like a bitch and she probably was to most people but she was solid as a rock too; crossed the t's dotted the i's every time and her ethics were sound mostly. They'd fucked in the back of a fire engine at a summer show a few years ago Patsy recalled hazily.

"I can't." Kim shrugged, her oxygen mask clinking against her fire retardant jacket.

"What do you mean you can't?" Patsy asked stupidly, glaring now at the unfortunate Kim who didn't step back though Patsys eyes should have scorched her skin.

"Orders Mount. Right from the top, this structures been unsound for years apparently, it could collapse at any minute.' Fern groaned louder into Patsys chest while Kim scowled at them both, 'I'm here for damage control, that's all. We're not to go in."

"How can you say that!' Patsy growled, hands gripping Fern tighter to her as ash rained down around them. Flecks caught in Kim's hair and it aged her, made her seem like a stranger. Something popped from the flat and Patsys calves tightened; ready to run. 'There's two adults and a young child up there Kim. You have to go in."

You have to go in. You can't do this!

"Sorry Mount,' Kim was shaking her head now, her dark eyes resigned, 'these are the direction from way up top. It would mean my badge." To her credit Kim did look like the decision left her uneasy but Patsy could see from her rigid stance with crossed arms she wasn't going to change it. Too much of a fucking square.

Patsy looked up at the burning building, stared at the blurry shine from the balcony doors where Seppie was and felt the imminent future looming big and red in front of her eyes. She groaned and shut them as she grudgingly accepted what was about to come. Because of course, of course, of course He'd known this was what she'd do. This was the trap wasn't it?

And this day had started out so well too.

Fern was still burrowed into Patsys chest, weeping words Patsy struggled to hear over the growl of the fire and the sirens from the truck and the screaming in her head. It took a bit of manoeuvring to release Ferns grasping hold but Patsy managed to get the girl to stand on her own two feet eventually.

God, it felt like Patsy was ripping a part of herself away as she did it.

Patsy cupped Ferns soggy chin in both hands. Their eyes met and understanding followed of a sort, Patsy tried to smile, to show it was going to be okay but she couldn't quite make it happen. She didn't know if it would be okay yet but.. It would have to be enough for now.

"You're not to do anything stupid, do you understand?" Patsy told Fern clearly, not entirely sure that she should be giving advise right now that she certainly wasn't able to take herself. Ferns lips shook as she scraped her hand messily across her clammy face. Snot spread from her puffy nostrils as she dropped her hand and nodded numbly. Patsy took a deep breath, her thumb rubbing Ferns cheek. Fern felt warm and alive and that was enough for now. 'If something happens that's bad then you're to have a good life. You're to finish school and you get out... Helen Shipman. She works at St Matthews. You go and find her and tell her you're mine. You do it for all of us, is that clear sweetheart?'

Fern couldn't nod properly anymore, her nose was dripping as she shook.

Pulling her hands away from Ferns face was hard but so was everything else to come and Patsy didn't have enough time left to focus on pain. She had to do 'now' and just hope there'd be time for regret later.

"Kim?"

"Mount?" Kim was watching the scene with slitted eyes, trying to work out why Patsy Mount was hugging this random child maybe. It must have looked odd. Everyone knew Patience Mount didn't do baggage didn't they?

Well, they'd probably be saying some new things after tonight at least, Patsy thought petulantly.

"Look after my kid while I'm gone please."

"Your... kid?" Kim repeated slowly, a flash of understanding flowering in her eyes just a second too late.

Kim's clawed hand missed Patsys shoulder by inches as Patsy released Fern and threw herself towards the front door to the flats.

"Patsy! Fucks sake, no!"

But Kims warning meant nothing. Seppie was up there and Patsy was out of options. Somewhere behind her she heard Fern grunt as Kim bore her to the floor just in case the girl was stupid enough to try and follow. The flash of a high vis jacket sprinted up from her left as a fireman from the perimeter heard his boss and tried to cut her off but Patsy wasn't hanging around and the jacket was too slow.

The blocks main front doors opened easily as Patsy collided between them and then the concrete steps were ahead of her. The warm rubber of the handrails was sliding beneath her sweating palm. One floor. Two floors, three and Patsy was knocking over the same old scooter that had littered the landing to Micks flat on her last visit. She came to a screeching halt between three familiar flat doors.

Micks flat was stationed between the two others. One of them looked untouched as of yet but weak grey smoke was already trickling through the gaps of the other one. Behind the glass of Micks door Patsy saw orange flickers that told her, as if she needed reminding, that there was a whacking great fire in there waiting to kill her.

Patsy grunted as she surged towards the familiar glass panelled wood, rattling the handle questioningly. It didn't budge at her first attempt and some second sense told her that Abraham wasn't foolish enough to leave a door unlocked. He liked making things difficult didn't he? Abraham liked playing with his food.

And Mick? Well, any man and his dog who knew Mick knew that the front door was more of a show piece anyway. It wasn't ever really locked, Patsy hadn't once known it to be locked and anyway, most people who needed to get inside weren't the type to be stopped by a bolt lock, they would just kicked the glass in. It was why Mick had started getting the glass panels in the first place; he said replacing the glass was cheaper than the whole damn door.

And now the fucking door was locked.

A stupid person might punch their way through the glass right now but that kind of thing only worked out well in fiction, if she tried that she'd be finding herself with a ripped radial artery. She needed to think. Be smarter. Furiously looking around her Patsy searched for something, anything to get her through and landed on the scooter she'd kicked out of the way a second before. It was pink, the garish shade of pink that all small girls seemed magnetically attracted to for some reason, the same old graffiti littered the cheerful characters face and it weighed heftily in her hand as she picked it up experimentally. It would have to do.

The glass shattered in satisfyingly large lumps around the spinning wheels of the scooter. Poor old Dora landed in a crash of smoky dust to explore no more as Patsy dropped the plastic base and carefully navigated around the jagged remaining glass to turn the internal lock inside the door. It opened with an inappropriately happy click.

Patsy stepped back as the door opened in, her eyes already taking in as much detail as she could.

What she saw was fire, smoke. What she knew was that smell of fire and that heat. It was like stepping back into time.

The kitchen was a smoking wreck. Flames spat through the doorway and burped ominous spiralling, thick dark smoke. It was in no way a place that Patsy wished to investigate too closely. Patsy tried to squint through the black cloud as it billowed out to look into the kids bedroom at the end of the hall. That door was shut by the look of it.

Something splintered horribly from the ceiling as flame crackled and growled at her. Painted its warning across her retinas in flashes and sparks.

Sweat trickled down Patsys back, made her shiver in the blazing heat. Fire. Why did it have to be fire? Give her snow and blizzards, give her knives, give her snakes, give her floods. Anything but bloody fire!

But this was her kid in there. This was Seppie.

Gritting her teeth Patsy barged through the smoke, her eyes closed, her hands flailing out to grasp a handle. The metal was hot to the touch and stuck against the dry skin of her fingers but she nudged it down with a few useless slaps and the door fell in sharply; dragging Patsy along with it.

Stumbling and spluttering as the smoke stung her throat and eyes Patsy stepped into the tiny box room her eyes sucking in the scene. Desperate to see something. Anything. Desperate to see Seppie. Please, please could she just see Seppie.

But Patsys luck was never there when she needed it at times like this.

There was a battered MDF bunk bed propped against one wall and a plastic table and chair shoved against the other. That seemed to be about it. No toys and no Seppie. The walls were a strange dirty salmon coloured paint that was supposed to stop mould, it had been applied right over the plaster board by the look of things. It was flaking in patches. The skirting boards were black with grime.

The fire wasn't in here yet, no one seemed to have disturbed the sad forgotten space and after a quick sweep just in case everything she'd already seen might not be true Patsy dropped to the floor to stare under the lowest beds slats.

Seppie wasn't there.

No scared brown eyes looked back from the dark and Patsys heart sank because a big part of her had already guessed as much. Stupid. Seppie wouldn't hide under the bed. Seppie would hide where no one should reasonably find her; she was too smart for hiding under beds. The bad guy knew about underneath beds.

And this was never going to be that easy was it?

Seppies bed was the lowest one. Pink duvet cover, no pillow case, the edges of the bare pillow almost turning brown with age and wear. It looked tatty as hell and there weren't any toys. A few pictures were tacked onto the wall; childish stick figures mainly. Patsys eye was caught by the same large female stick with red hair beside a little stick.

She was in every damn picture.

Lump in her throat Patsys hand reached out and found a ratty looking teddy bear that had been carefully tucked away in the medial line between both duvet and pillow like it was sleeping or something. Patsy counted one weary button eye and noted the general lack of fur on its greying body. Seppie used to suck the ear of this bear when she was really small, called it bubble. Patsy had bought it for her to hold when she had to go to her hearing tests because Allie had moaned how much the girl used to cry. Seppie hated her ears being messed with. She hated the dark too...

Would she be somewhere dark right now? Where was she?

Her hands shaking, Patsy picked up the bear and pressed it to her face. Couldn't help it. It was just so small. The smell of boiled sweets and dirt clouded her senses, the fur soaked up the few tears she could muster as Patsy got back to her feet, murder in her heart. Reverently Patsy made sure she tucked bubbles securely into the back of her jeans. Seppie would want it when Patsy got her.

And Patsy would get the girl. Patsy would not allow her to be dead. Not her baby. Not this time.

The hallway was worse on the way back. The air was cloying and thick with borrowed heat. Above her head the cheap plaster board artex bubbled and dripped as it melted. Ten more minutes and everything would cave in for certain which meant time was of the essence. The saving grace was that Mick was too crooked to save the carpet, he'd sold it months back, underlay and all and the bare floor beneath where it should have been was nothing more than cold concrete. This was the only thing that Patsy could think that was stemming the flood of fire from rushing out and exhuming the hallway but it wouldn't hold out forever.

She needed to think. Patsy hovered amidst the smoke and tried to make her brain work. The smoke was distracting, the fire hurt her lungs but Seppie was somewhere here. She had to be.

Something in her hind brain flicked onto autopilot as she registered the faintest cracking sound emitting to her direct right. Patsy barely had seconds to jump backwards as the kitchen door finally lost its losing battle with the grip on its hinges and careened over to land in the hallway. The top edge hit the opposite wall with a crash; smoke and embers bounced and showered a small circle of space around its path. Patsy choked in ash and smoke as she tried desperately to rub away the feeling that she was burning somewhere.

The closest side of the door had missed her by precious inches. If she hadn't moved she'd have been trapped by six foot of burning wood right now. The council doors were thick too; Patsy stamped out as much of the flames as she could and she forced herself to clamber over the precariously balanced wood. Trying to find some cooler space between the door and the kitchen.

There wasn't any and the hair on the back of her neck singed and stung even as the fire licked its way up the wall and began spreading in ernest. This place was going to go down any minute and she had to find Seppie.

Patsy looked to her left and right desperately as she gasped. She wouldn't have time to do the kitchen and the living room. Decision time.

The fire was just a hypnotising scream of heat from the kitchen. Even as the hallway began to fill with smoke it was nothing to what that room was. It was highly likely the fire had been started in there. Arsonists liked kitchens.

But five year old wouldn't would they? She wouldn't go in there surely? Seppie would go somewhere she felt safe and Fern has said... Patsy eyes the crimson splash of door to the kitchen and made her choice.

Not there then.

Holding her breath now just to keep some untainted oxygen in her system Patsy swung round to face the place the living room door should be. It was nearly invisible amidst the smoke. Everything was becoming oddly fuzzy around the edges and the space she was in was too small.

Fern had said Seppie hid underneath the sofa sometimes hadn't she? So Seppie had to be in there. She just had to be.

Fuck, it was hot in here.

Patsy struck out, desperate to get away from the growing fire around her but found only empty air where there should have been purchase.

This door didn't have a handle anymore.

Well who could have fucking predicted that, Patsy sniped in her head as some of the lesser parts of her snarled. Someone, or more than one someone probably, had kicked the handle off the door. There was just a spiky hole and flat planes of nothing to grab hold of. Through the fog of diminishing oxygen Patsy thought she heard something metal rattle off as it clipped the edge of her boot and rocked away from her.

So much for easy access then.

Sucking her cheeks in to stop the scream of frustration and panic that was beginning to build in her chest while the flaming carcass of the door wobbled dangerously where the wood began to disintegrate beside her Patsy tried to think in clear lines. Door. She just needed to get past another door. She felt a hysterical laugh claw up her throat at the idea.

How hard could it be?

Hot plaster dripped from the ceiling in a continuous boiling stream now and hit her exposed neck. The smell of singed flesh and the sizzle as it stung pushed her on. Patsy pressed the flat of her palms against the stubbornly closed door in front of her and leant closer. The wood felt uncomfortably warm against her skin. Smoke trickled continuously through the seal of the doorframe, filling the hall from where she stood with thick grey smog that mingled with the smoke from the kitchen and the hallway until the air was mind blankingly hot and thin.

Get through the door Patsy! Just get through the fucking door!

Coughing every few seconds, tears pouring from reddening eyes, Patsy pressed her ear to the seal. Listening carefully for anything, anything at all. Any small signal that told her she was doing the right thing, making the right call. It wouldn't do anything for her to bang or yell of course; Seppie wouldn't know she was here if she did that. Seppie wouldn't know she was being saved. Even through the blood pounding in her ears Patsy thought she could discern faintly from somewhere inside the room a rhythmic sort of umph noise.

That was the only sign she needed right now. Her boots were beginning to stick to the ash in the floor as the rubber soles melted and sweat dripped down her nose stinging the small blisters that seemed to be starting to appear all over her skin.

There was going to be a lot of heat when that door opened. Fire was a bitch of a mistress to tame Patsy knew; it curled around spaces like some carnivorous plant and devoured everything from the inside out. It was sneaky too; one minute you thought you had it under control, you thought you were safely away and the next you were looking for your eyebrows in the carpet as it just tried to burn half your face off.

Gritting her teeth Patsy took a step back, squaring her shoulders and took a flying leap at the door. It gave way easily for nearly half an inch before stopping dead and rolling backwards. More smoke plumed through the widened gap and Patsy staggered as the murk overwhelmed her. The door disappearing behind the crackling curtain of fire.

Hot. Really hot.

Cursing, Patsy closed her eyes and blindly shoved her shoulder just above where the handle should be. Pushing with all her might against whatever it was that was blocking the doors passage. It was heavy whatever it was. Again and again Patsy shoved at the unyielding wood, desperate to gain entry. She got through by inches, the blockage shifting with each desperate surge of the door against it. Naked, dry heat fanned against her face, she felt small tendrils of hair curl and burn against her cheek.

In the end the door did give way after one final brutally aimed hit. Her shoulder felt like it was sprained and her ribs groaned their complaints but somewhere Patsy felt the blockage slither out of the doors way with a sickening squelching noise.

More smoke rushed to meet her. Patsy was forced to squeeze her eyes closed as she blindly moved by feel into the room. Memory told her that the sofa was usually squished up against doorway and far wall. Her fingers managed to alight on something fuzzy for almost a whole second until the heat was too much.

Fire. The sofa was on fire then.

Clenching her hands to try and prevent any more burns Patsy stepped crablike further into the room and somehow managed to trip over something that memory had been unable to warn her of.

She fell to her knees in a bone crunching thud that made her teeth rattle. At least on her knees the air seemed slightly clearer though. Every cloud and all that.

Patsy rubbed at her eyes with sticky hands; gasping and spitting what felt like pure carbon onto the living room carpet. Her heart was rocking around her chest so fast she wondered wryly if she'd have a heart attack before the fire got her. Everything felt too hot. Everything was burning. The yelling, cawing battle cry of the fire filled her ears and blood while the heat from everywhere seemed to scorch any part of her it could land on.

Which was all of her really.

She wanted to go to sleep. Her body was bent double as she folded over on her knees. The fire was a band wrapped around her lungs but she couldn't stop. Seppie was here somewhere. Patsy would not let Seppie die like this. Not like this!

When she felt she could move Patsy cracked open a filmy eye to try and see why she'd fallen over. The line of sight was still blurry, the roar of the flames a belching harmony drumming into her ears but one look was about all she needed really.

A body. She'd fallen over a body.

Faintly queasy Patsy tried to crawl backwards but stopped when her knees seemed to suck themselves back to the floor. Breathing shallowly Patsy looked down at her hands and felt her stomach flip. Blood. Blood was everywhere. It was already staining her palms, her wrists, her knees. Blood was oozing out in fat puddles around the body.

It was the leg that gave her the biggest clue as to the bodies identity. Just one leg. Already knowing what she'd find but spurred on by some horrible need to make sure she was right Patsy followed the familiar profile towards the direction of the door. Questing along wet jeans and t-shirt. More blood, slick and tacky, passing onto her wrists as she went.

The one leg was too much of a give away really and now Patsy knew what the thing was that had blocked the door for her. Now Patsy knew why she hadn't been able to open the door.

The blockage had been this body. It wasn't a person anymore; it was a body now Patsy told herself. Definitely a body. No man survived that much blood loss and got up again to fight another day. Patsy was touching what remained of Mick Sheiks body. Mick must have been alive when Abraham left, must have crawled towards the door as the fire started, desperate to escape somehow only to find that the door wouldn't open.

The door wouldn't open. The door wouldn't open. How well did Patsy understand that moment of terror Mick must have felt.

God. It was all happening again. Past and present were blurring and Patsy had to find Seppie but she couldn't seem to stop staring down at Mick. Couldn't stop herself from imagining how he'd died.

Because that was the way she was supposed to die, wasn't it? All those years ago.

Details. Details. Details. At times like this it was important not to fall into obvious traps. The brain could play tricks on you too easily; sometimes, in a crime scene, there would be moments when you could almost make yourself believe that the body moved or winked. Human nature would always deny its most brutal truth.

Patsy tried to focus through the heat and the panic. Micks head didn't look all that much like a head anymore. It had been the unknown obstacle that had impeded her passage into the room and Patsys frantic pushes had near caved the skull in with the edge of the door. The left side of his face was oddly deformed, the bone had almost folded into itself in a weird sort of 90 degree corner. It was impossible to distinguish the colour of his eyes anymore, the sightless orbs had burst into a mess of broken blood vessels. His mouth was open, a small drop of saliva was still shining on his weak chin.

Patsy tried to ignore her terror as she made sure she had the facts. She hadn't killed him. That much was obvious without too much detective work. Someone had slit his throat; ear to ear job. Severed his vocal chords and oesophagus by the curious reddy purplish tubes hanging out the hole. You had to hand to Mick; he really was one of life's fighters. Had been anyway. He'd crawled a good way if the gruesome trail of blood was anything to go by.

Something popped from across the room and Patsy dropped her hold on Micks corpse to twist around furtively. Through the smoke she spied the faint glimmer of the outside world. Balcony. There was a balcony.

But Fern had mentioned the sofa... Patsy turned around to take in the torrent of flames coming from the rooms only seat. It was an old, third or forth hand grubby thing with stained cushions and dead springs. Now, it was crackling merrily in a mist of cloying diesel smell and green flames. It was probably one of the first places you'd start a fire after a kitchen. Anyone hiding behind it would have to be long dead and... Seppie...

No!

Hobbling up to a half standing position, her knees catching in Micks drying blood Patsy inched over and levered the burning upholstery away from the wall with her melting boot to grope in the half flames between it and the wall. Seppie was a smart girl, Patsy told herself desperately even as her fingers groped thin air, surely she'd have crawled out when she knew the men had gone.

But she's deaf, argued the bastard logical part of her brain. She's a scared five year old who can't hear anything. Maybe she wouldn't move? Maybe she'd just curl up and hope it would end soon. Maybe-

No!

She'd smell the fire wouldn't she? She'd scramble away from fire. She was not dead! Seppie was here Patsy just had to look harder. Patsy made another swipe in the gap and felt the fire dance around her hand viscously, the tongues of flame sucking at her skin.

Yelping in pain Patsy was forced to fall back on her arse, her face glowing cherry red and her fingers blistering with already concerning burns. Seppie wasn't there. Seppie wasn't dead for certain.

Yet.

But the fire was just getting worse and Patsy only had the other side of the room to look. She craned around, her burnt hand cradled uselessly against her chest as she tried to squint to see. It was impossible. There was too much fire, too much heat but... there was something. Something glinting against the back wall.

Patsy half limped in a crouching squat towards it. She felt drunk, the kind of drunk you felt a few minutes before you passed out and every footfall was a mile and every breath was another effort she had to give.

She almost tripped over the next body as it loomed out from the smoke. She barely had time to see it as it squished under her boot. The toe of her right shoe stopped as it met a solid back. Big. Too big to be Seppie.

Allie then.

The body was laying face down in the carpet, one hand curled beneath it while the other pointed out like it was reaching for something but couldn't find it. Patsy dropped to one knee with a grunt and used her good hand to flip Allies body over. It was hard; Patsy was tired and Allie was a big woman but Patsy managed it in the end. Spit hurling out through clenched teeth as she bit her tongue to stop the scream of pain. Patsy arms were blistering, red and ashy but Allie looked worse.

Allie looked very dead.

Patsy clumsily pressed two fingers to the woman's neck, checking for a pulse she knew wasn't there and found only burned skin and more blood. They'd slit her throat too. Another complete job. Allies eyes were open and staring at nothing. The corners of her mouth locked in a sort of grimace; shock maybe. Definitely pain.

Allie hadn't bothered to crawl away. Maybe she had known how pointless it was. That was always the difference between Mick and Allie; Mick ran away, Allie wasn't even strong enough to try.

Without much ceremony Patsy closed Allies eyes because she didn't want to look at them anymore. Too much. This was too much. Allie. Poor bitch.

Poor everyone. It could have been different. Everyone was so fucked and Fern would have no one now. Not even Patsy if she couldn't find Seppie.

Patsy stared at the woman's body unseeing as something loud boomed out from the way she'd come and the floor beneath her rattled. The ceiling in the hall must have finally come away. For a moment the smoke cleared slightly as air flooded through the open door and wafted the cloud.

It was so hot in here and everyone was dead. Seppie. Seppie was probably dead. Patsy was going to die any minute. The fire wasn't out and it was so hard to breathe. There was no air and Seppie-

That was when Patsy saw it; tucked away in the direction of Allies outstretched hand. Saw a foot. Saw a blanket.

Seppie.

Confused neurons fired uselessly inside her sluggish brain.

Seppie... Patsy knew that foot...Seppie.

Seppie!

The little girl was half hidden by a blanket and huddled in the corner, hardly visibly really. Just the brush of her hair poked out from the edge. And a little foot. If Patsy hadn't been looking for her...

Seppie...

Patsy slid over Allies corpse and scrambled towards the corner where Seppie lay. The blanket was wrapped tightly around the girl and her eyes were open. Blank and staring.

Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Don't be dead.

Tears and sweat were pouring so thick and fast Patsy could barely see. The fire was picking up again as more cracking sounds flooded through the door; it had found a new pathway amongst the rotting joists of the roof and the influx of air merely spurned it on as it roared its victory but all Patsy knew was the little girl in her arms.

The brain played tricks. Made you believe the body could blink. Her brain was paying tricks on her right now. Seppie blinked slowly, woozy.

Seppie weighed so little as Patsy drew her into her lap, her arms were floppy things that weren't working and her face was shiny with sweat. She didn't close her eyes at Patsys touch. The usually animated hands didn't even twitch. Patsy rubbed her hands along the girls sides; checking for a wound, a stab wound. She didn't find one but that didn't mean Seppie was still alive. Patsy couldn't stop the tears.

No! Not my baby. Not Seppie. Not Seppie!

Her fingers were barely able to uncurl as the smoke paralysed her but she still groped at Seppies neck. She was so damn tired and her first two attempts missed; the smoke was blinding her to everything... but when she did find skin she also found that there was a pulse.

There was a fucking pulse! Seppie...

Relief so heavy she nearly passed out crowded her as Patsy pressed harder against the girls throat where the promise of life was beating its truth against her fingers. She was alive. Alive but barely. Closer up Patsy could just make out the small rises in her chest that said she was breathing but they were too small. Too much smoke on too little lungs and Patsy needed to get them out of here. Seppie was staring up at her; shock or smoke meant all the girl could do now was watch Patsy glassy eyed.

More wood fell through the door and sparks spat their fireworks across the carpet. The smoke was thicker now, the heat increasing impossibly as something crashed and boomed and scraped from the hall.

What was that? More wood? Maybe they'd fall right through the floor into the flat beneath.

But the balcony was just a little way away. Patsy needed to move them... But she didn't think she could. Seppie lay across her knees light as any load Patsy had ever carried but she couldn't get up. She only had one good hand. It was so hot in here and her hand... Patsy gasped, her chest constricting tightly as smoke curled around them. Her bad hand was gripping her shirt, the skin too red and she couldn't flex it. She couldn't get through another door.

Seppies face was slack, her toast rack of a chest creaking as she breathed slowly but she could see Patsy. She wasn't alone and God Patsy wouldn't have changed anything. She'd done the right thing. No one should die alone. Not Seppie.

Patsy leant back and stroked the girls cheek with her good hand weakly before trying to sign. It was hard with only one hand.

**I got you curly. Red got you.**

Seppie didn't move but tears leaked onto her chin and all Patsy could do was be here with her.

It was so fucking hot in here and Patsy hadn't been good enough. She'd failed everyone and it just wasn't good enough. Not quick enough or clever enough and it was just hot. Everything was burning and she was eleven years old again but this time she wasn't alone.

Tears swam in front of Patsys eyes, blurred the already blurry scene, made the doorway shadowy and black.

Seppie was still breathing and she had nearly done it. Patsy felt a tired anger bubble in the dank river of her soul.

It could have worked. Her, the kids, Delia. She'd been so close. She'd been so close to getting things right dammit!

Another crash. Another boom. Seppie was watching her and Patsy couldn't look away.

What else could have fallen was anyone guess. Maybe the roof had caved in. Maybe she was seconds away from a big explosion. Somehow it was fitting in a way and she'd had nearly twenty years hadn't she? Twenty years of wasting life she shouldn't have had in the first place. Perhaps this was just fates way of balancing the books.

Boom!

Patsy could barely look up as something scraped on the floor close by. Something flashed like gold in the dark. It was so dark now. How had it got so dark so quickly? There'd been a fire somewhere hadn't there and now it was all turning black. For a moment she thought there'd been something. Something like hope...

And... an axe?

Hands flew through the smoke and gripped her. Strange hands, hands she didn't recognise followed by a face she sort of knew. It was covered by something smudgy. Everything was blurry and she was so ready for this day to end already.

She couldn't even force a fight response as Kim unclipped a mask and jammed it over her nose and mouth.

"Breathe in deeply." Kim commanded through the dim lighting of Patsys brain.

Her brain was slow but her lungs weren't. She sucked at the oxygen as Kim strapped another respirator to Seppies face. The oxygen was like putting glasses on after denying that you needed them for years. All of a sudden the room was straightening out, the merging colours fading into a wall of orange with a dim gap where somehow Kim must have cut through it. Patsy needed more oxygen for complex thought but she did know they needed to get the hell out of here. Now.

Kim was already ahead of her. Patsy felt her trying to tug Seppies limp form from her arms and tightened her grip reflexively. No one was taking her baby away from her. No one was taking Seppie anywhere without Patsy there.

"I'll carry her." Patsy grunted through the mask. The words weren't exactly easy to hear through plastic but maybe Kim had gotten used to hearing people mumble like that. In any case she stopped trying to pull Seppie out of her grip.

Axe. She'd pulled an axe from whatever place she kept axes and was hacking at the wall. Glass shattered in the burning room but what was a little glass when you were about to cook yourself?

Patsy pressed her fingers to Seppies neck just to feel the pulse. She would get them away from here.

The patio door was clear of glass now and Kim was walking back to Patsy, miming for her to get her butt up and Patsy was never one for letting a lady down.

Her legs felt wobbly when she stood up but she didn't fall and Seppie was clutched to her chest with her good hand.

The balcony was three floors up, about three foot by two and nothing but concrete and fag butts. Patsy could only hope Kim was a better planner than she was. Firefighters tended to be adrenaline junkies at heart after all but Kim was already standing at the balconies edge waving her hands at the fire truck below.

Something white and long was stretching up towards them as another explosion from the living room said that that ceiling had caved in there too. A few minutes more and they'd all have been crushed. The balcony creaked on its stilts.

A ladder was slowly creeping towards them. Kim turned round and pulled Patsy close to her.

"When it gets here you take the kid and get on the ladder first. I'll follow you okay."

Patsy nodded to show she'd understood. Her body felt like a blunt pencil and Seppie was the centre of her world. Her little trooper.

The ladder got to them with a bump as it grazed the side of the balcony. Patsy managed to wedge her foot into a recess where a dead pot that had been doing service as an ash tray had once been. The ladder felt flimsy as she slid her arse over the struts. It wobbled even more when Kim jumped up behind her. Hands gripped her sides as they both edged downwards.

Somewhere cameras flashed below. Faces made a sea that watched them. The fire roared as they made their escape.

When they got half way down another fireman Patsy didn't have the energy to recognise met them, guiding Patsy past the red truck bit by bit until her feet landed onto soft grass. Someone was screaming.

Fern was screaming in Patsys ear. An ambulance flashed in front of them both as EMT's converged on the scene. On Patsy and Seppie. And Seppie was still watching her, still breathing, still alive.

"I got her!' Patsy couldn't stop herself from slurring but the words were jubilant, terrified and half mad and true. Seppie was still breathing. 'I got her!"

The fire roared its loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over for another twelve weeks. Goodbye anatomy and physiology, hello development of the profession self through therapeutic models.
> 
> This isn't my best, half of it was written during a pre exams depressive swirl so bare with me man. I've tried to edit out my crappier writings but there's a few bits I still don't like but still... angst. Angst wherever ye look fair maiden.
> 
> This should have been done for yesterday as it was Nowseeheres birthday but sadly I'm a day late for heaven now (story of my life lol) hopefully she'll accept my late birthday gift.
> 
> Right; onto the story. So the bottles been shook and shits going down. Before anyone asks (because everyone always asks) no, Seppie isn't going to die. She's gone into shock because of smoke inhalation and seeing her mums body. Seriously; thank my Mrs because Seppie wasn't originally going to be as big a player as she is and she was going to die but I can't do it. A) she's become semi based on my god daughter and I can't ever write her dying now and b) my Mrs would be well fucked off. Chill winston. 
> 
> Anyhoo, Go on, tell me what you really think about it, you know you want to :)
> 
> SB


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling like a hero, but I can't fly  
> No, you never crash if you don't try  
> Took it to the edge, now I know why  
> Never gonna live if you're too scared to die.
> 
> Goo goo dolls. So Alive.

“What happened? Where's my mum, why wasn't she with you?"

The sirens swam around Patsys exhausted brain as Fern vibrated beside her waiting with pointless hope for an answer Patsy didn't want to give her yet. Across the tight space a professional but impersonal EMT was busy checking the tubes running into Seppies nose. The little girl was laying splay legged on the swaying stainless steel and plastic bed. The only sign that she was still with them all was the slow but still rhythmic condensation trickling up the plastic mask gripped tightly to her tiny face. And her open eyes. Patsy couldn't stop staring at them.

It almost felt like if she lost attention for even a second those precious puffs of air might stop.

The tussle to the ambulance had seemed to be over in a flash.

Patsy had clung to the ground and to Seppie with all her strength as she'd felt others clambering to grab. Her addled brain told her to be wary of danger but she was tired. She was so tired and she couldn’t seem to breathe properly and Seppie needed help that she didn't know how to give.

She’d never quite felt so helpless, laying face down in the sweet smelling grass, Fern yelling in her ear. Everyone had been yelling. So loud. The world was a crazy place. Too big. Hands had been pressing at them, dragging nails across her neck painfully. She'd just about managed to resist the throngs clamouring until Kim had swung down beside her at a mutual eye level and begun bellowing at Patsy forcefully to get up again. Patsy had recognised the voice blearily as a friend and followed the directions to let the EMTs check her and Seppie over.

They’d done so hurriedly. Patsy hadn’t enjoyed the press of bodies blocking her view from proceedings. She’d flatly refused any more than her pulse being taken before racing away from the reaching hands, making sure to drag Fern along with her to follow the swaying body of Seppie already loaded onto a rickety trolley bed towards the ambulance.

There'd been a minor hiccup as they'd reached the back of the yellow van and someone had mentioned nervously that they all wouldn’t fit in the tight space. Patsy and Fern had shouted down the attempts at separation immediately. Seppie had said nothing. She just lay limp and unresponsive in the paramedics arms. Always unhearing.

Kim had said she'd ride up front with the driver as they scrambled in and the doors had slammed shut behind them. The back of the ambulance was indeed uncomfortably tight with four passengers but Fern and Patsy had seated themselves as close to the wall as they could with their legs poised to fold up if necessary.

The medic treating them was almost perfectly spherical in shape which didn’t much help the lack of room situation. After laying Seppie down, inserting canulas and hooking drips she'd attempted to check Patsy out with a show of concern that had grated on Patsys fried nerves. Patsy had waved her away angrily.

"Just look after my kid." She'd grunted as Fern shook beside her. A coiled spring waiting to explode.

That was fifteen minutes ago and no one besides the medic had tried to speak yet. Seppie stared at the ceiling above her sightlessly while Patsy tried not to vomit. The ambulance shook if it got over thirty miles an hour and right now they were tumbling around forty, the numerous bumps and shakings were doing nothing for Patsys stinging head.

Fern... Fern was apparently finding her voice again now though.

"Where's my mum Patsy?" Fern was tugging at Patsys bad wrist insistently, her skinny fingers points of icy cold against Patsys too hot skin. It hurt. A lot of things were hurting Patsy right now and not all of them were physical.

All Patsy had wanted this morning was to get the girls and have breakfast. Was that so much to have asked for? Maybe they'd have joked around at Mrs B's; the girls would have eaten more than their weight probably and Patsy wouldn't have minded. Then they could have bought some scary looking DIY bunk beds, Seppie would have undoubtedly asked about wall colours. Hell, given Patsys inability to turn the girl down she’d have most likely ended up buying some of that too. Patsy would have put them to bed tonight knowing that they were upstairs and safe and then maybe she could have snuck Delia in and...

But no, that was the sort of thing that happened to luckier people. People with better authors.

Instead, she was sitting in the back of an ambulance and at some point she would need to tell the girls they were officially orphans... Which was a shitty job no matter how you cut it. Patsy was trying robotically not to think too much about that moment right now. Coward as she was she was choosing to put off the time she would be forced to lay down that particular mortal blow.

She didn't quite remember how she'd been told Elizabeth had died officially. They'd fished Patsy out of the water butt and they'd cleaned her up and thought her simple; dumb and deaf. It could only be for that reason that they spoke so candidly from open doorways. She'd heard them talking about scraping the remnants of bodies from the rooms burnt floor. Heard about the big mass grave they'd dug up in the grounds full of God only knew who. Of course she'd already known her mother was dead then so it had hardly mattered to seek answers.

She'd never been able to forget how her mothers hair had felt as the room burned. She'd never quite been able to recall when they'd last spoken before the fire either. She'd never visited the grave. Never quite seen the point of reviewing matters that were so clearly finished.

And now it was Ferns turn and Patsy didn't know how to tell her. She didn't want to. She'd just wanted to have a nice day with the children God dammit.

With a sinking heart Patsy recalled how the crueler kids in the children home used to call this situation being in 'the dead mum club’. A few had taunted Patsy about she was in it when she’d first turned up, at least they had until she’d broken the biggest culprits nose. No one wanted to be in the dead Mum club, it meant you had no one... but whether Patsy wanted to say it or not the club had just acquired two more members and it wasn't fair. Not one tiny bit of it was fair and if Patsy was someone who cried easily she'd be a mess right now.

But she wasn't; she was a burned hulk in the back of a weaving ambulance instead.

Fern squeezed Patsys arm again a little harder and Patsy felt a groan slide between her gritted teeth. Pain. Under the fluorescent lights her skin was a muted burgundy colour with penny sized vivid white blisters. She couldn't smell burning anymore but then again she'd probably stopped out of some latent attempt at self preservation.

She was filthy, soot incrusted and shivering. Seppie looked about the same; so tiny and so scared and this wasn't fair. Patsy vaguely remembered being pleased about paint on her knee last night. Last night when she’d been so happy, like she was intruding on someone else’s life. She'd wanted to keep these jeans as an act of remembrance Patsy thought to herself bitterly. Micks blood mingled with hers on the scratchy fabric now. Allies...

She'd bloody well throw them into the sea first chance she got after today.

Seppie was still breathing though. Fern was alive beside her. Patsy was alive. Things could have been worse. Sort of.

"Patsy, tell me what's happened!" Fern bawled from her side. Her voice shaking with fear and shock. A wobbling warning that hell could break forth any minute.

Patsy finally allowed herself to turn away from Seppie. It was a difficult thing to do but necessary as Ferns grip seemed to be cutting off the circulation to her arm.

"Fern." Patsy tried to put as much emotion as she could into the girls name. Talking hurt her throat though and she sounded like a sixty day smoker. The contractions to her dried oesophagus made her cough pitifully but Fern didn't release Patsys arm. There would be no reprieve it seemed. The girls eyes were puffy and threatening more tears any minute and Patsy didn't know what she could say to take the pain away.

This was why she didn't do relationships of any kind. Eventually she'd be faced with the shitty side of things and she wasn't built for it... But Fern and Seppie were her responsibility now. Her babies. Patsy swallowed hard.

"I tried everything I could sweetheart... It was too late. Your mum... I'm so sorry Fern; she'd already gone when I got there."

"Gone...' Fern blinked confusedly, her paper thin forehead creasing as though she was desperately trying to work out where on Earth Allie could have gone. Patsy felt her spirits dip a little further past the horizon. 'But... She's alive isn't she?" The hopeless yet hopeful expression was awful to see in the girls face as she stared at Patsy.

It's not true, said Ferns eyes, tell me you're not telling me what I think you're telling me Patsy.

How could it hurt so bad when it wasn't even her own pain?

"Fern,' with difficulty Patsy managed to raise her good hand high enough and curved it to rest on Ferns shoulder. The girls collar bone cut into her palm. 'Your mother died sweetheart... She was dead when I got in there. I'm so sorry Fern, she's gone."

The fire would be all the story Patsy would share unless she had to. She could spare them that one pain at least. The image of Allies dead face would be her ghost to bare, not the kids. Never Ferns. Please God not Ferns.

"She's d- She can't be!’ Suddenly Fern was squeezing Patsys hand like it was the only real thing in the world and Patsy gasped as red spots of light danced across her eyes. ‘Pats, she can't be!" Fern wasn't fifteen right now, she was a child in a grown ups reality because who the fuck else had to hear those words? Patsy watched the flux of shock stutter over the thin face her heart breaking.

The dead mum club. Welcome in kid.

"If I could swap with her for you sweetheart I would." Why did everything sound so trite at times like this? There was never an easy answer, a good reply. Grief was the kick that kept coming. Ferns eyes were wide, her chest suddenly shuttering like a door in high wind as she started to hyperventilate again in ernest.

"But... She can't! Patsy she can't. I told her I didn't love her... That can't be the last thing I told her!" Ferns jaw was working overtime, chewing words and spitting them out at Patsy. The volume increased with every syllable; shriller and shriller and mixing with the sirens. Patsys head thudded.

"Fern-" Patsy tried to think of something comforting, tried to think of something that might help but Fern wasn't listening. Her neck was clammy, sweat soaking through her t-shirt beneath Patsys hand as she swooned. A reed in the wind.

Patsy managed to grab the girl through shaky reflexes alone just before she hit the floor. Her eyes were rolling, her arms convulsing.

"What's going on?" The paramedic was already turning her bulk around to survey the new casualty as Patsy grappled with the squirming girl in her arms, dragging Fern up onto her lap, ignoring the ache in her own limbs.

"Shock I think. Their mum was in the fire, she didn't make it." Patsy said through clenched teeth as she tried to trap a gesticulating hand as it clawed perilously close to Ferns eyes.

"And you felt that now was the correct time to tell her?' Grumbled the paramedic wearily, one hand already feeling for Ferns pulse as she simultaneously pounded a large fist against the partition window to the driver, 'we've got a fainter in here Jamey. Let them know, I'll do obs."

Patsy watched helplessly as Fern stopped thrashing and went limp, her weight a tiny thing on her legs. Seppie was still breathing.

Patsy felt sweat trickle down her neck. Panic gnawed at her through the fog of exhaustion.

It was too much, this was too big for just her. She needed help. Her first thought was of course Helen. Helen would know what to do right now because Helen always knew what to do. What to say when things were bad. Her second, weirdly, was Delia. Patsy really wanted Delia right now.

\--

The local hospital was miles out from Poplar. A great jutting monolith of a thing that always seemed to be under some kind of refurbishment or construction. Half the wards were old and worn with equally old and worn looking staff. The other half was as modern as it was going to get this far from a major city with a hospital constantly dabbling into the 'requires improvement' category by the CQC.

At least the posters were nice.

Patsy must have read the blue and white one designed to stop staff abuse a hundred times over in the last half an hour. The recycled images and bawdy threats of police charges were tacked directly onto the thin plaster wall in front of her.

Seppie was in the room behind her to her left. Fern was seconded to her right and here Patsy sat; sentry and watcher of the crowds, trying not to fall apart as paranoia and fear choked her.

She hated hospitals. She hated not knowing who she could trust. She hated all of this and she hadn’t yet been able to call forth reliable help. The nice triage nurse at the desk with the West Indies accent had directed them all efficiently into waiting bays on their arrival, her face a professional mask of detached concern. Patsy had struggled with herself before making a jerk decision and begging the use of the staffs phone. The nice nurse had introduced herself as Lucille and she’d allowed it with some reluctance; hovering distractingly behind Patsy as she’d left succinct but desperate messages on both Helen and Delias answer phones. Helen still seemed to be too bloody busy to answer her phone and Delia was clearly ensconced in her discussions with Jessie. Patsy was left to panic alone as the girls awaited examination from whoever the hell would check them out.

Time to think was not what Patsy wanted right now. Images of Micks body, Allies slack throat, Seppie. Fire. Always and again was the memory of fire. She’d been remembering that for most of her life and now the catalogue had a few new images. It wasn’t helping her heart to calm down much.

Dyer and Abraham had left Seppie to die.

The kids, she told herself firmly as she pressed her back more firmly into the sharp bite of the seat, she had to protect the kids first and foremost. Once reinforcements arrived she could take her revenge but until then...

Dyer and Abraham had left Seppie to die.

She was seething with rage and through the red smoke behind her eyes there was one looming great certainty growing in intensity. They would pay for this. She would seek them out. Soon. This would end. This had to end. None of them could live like this.

She would not.

—

Seppie had started coming to when they'd been ten minutes out. She hadn't been quite up to sitting but she'd been able to move her hands at least to make her requests. One word. One request.

**Red**

Patsy hadn't known whether to weep or laugh. The girl had been dredged from a burning building, she'd seen her mother die and the first thing she'd asked for was Red. Well, Patsy was not one to refuse a lady when she called; especially not this one. She'd deposited Fern safely into the two seats and shuffled over to hover uncertainly above Seppie. As she'd done so she'd felt something small slip from her jeans and fumbled to catch it. Bubbles had miraculously survived the fire. She let him hang limply from her hand as she met Seppies frightened little face.

The oxygen wires made it all so much worse. Her brown eyes pleaded up at Patsy; wanting to be safe. Thinking Patsy could be that.

**Reds here. Don’t worry, Red stay with curly. Curly safe.**

Patsys fingers were clunky, the words a bit misshapen as her bad hand refused to flex fully but the sentiment was simple enough. Seppie followed her fingers path in the air, the condensation puffing against the mask still strapped across her face as a tear trickled down the plastic curve of it.

**Red, I hurt.**

Seppie wasn't all that better with the talking right now than Patsy was and Patsy had to squint to catch it all. Her chest ached as she understood and registered the bewilderment emanating from Seppies face but she forced herself to stay calm. She gave a slight nod of understanding and gripped Seppies ankle comfortingly. Bubbles bumped against the girls leg.

The EMT was still faffing with Fern behind her but she'd assured Patsy her sats were all in normal ranges; it was just shock. Apparently that was a good thing although Patsy for the life of her couldn't find the energy to be relieved. Fern was only escaping reality for a little while; she'd come back and nothing would have changed and Patsy would still need to be strong enough to keep everyone together. Patsy didn't know how she was going to do that yet but she knew she'd have to work it out soon. These kids were hers now; by hook or crook they were hers to keep safe. Seppies skin was cold, she looked so small laying on the swaying bed. Fragile.

And someone had left her to burn to death.

That thought cut bone deep; icy and sharp. They had left her to die. They had left this tiny little girl to sit with her dying mother in a burning building. They'd tried to kill this little girl; Patsys baby.... And they would pay. All of them; Abraham, Dyer. Patsy would find them. They would pay for this. Behind Patsys eyes the two culprits burned. They would pay for this.

**Scared.**

Seppie went for one more word but her eyes were two watery to see if she'd done it right. Patsys throat seemed to swell shut as she understood again.

**Reds here Curly, Red stay here with you. You're safe now. Promise.**

Patsy made certain her hands were clear, raising them higher with difficulty as the ambulance rocked around her to make sure they were in the child's eye line. She saw Seppies eyes following her hands solemnly. And then a jerky nod.

**Promise.**

Seppie repeated the motion drowsily and Patsy felt something indistinct click into place. Like a contract had been signed somehow.

She stayed where she was until they rolled into the a&e bay. Watching Seppie fall back into unconsciousness in front of her. Fern still slept the induced sleep beside her and Patsy wouldn’t have been anywhere else. They were hers now.

They were hers.

—

According to the efficient Lucille all doctors were supposed to see their patients within two hours of admittance in keeping with the government mandated targets but Patsy already knew that that wasn’t really possible given all the staff shortages. The NHS was on its knees.

When the clock above the nurses station reached midday Patsy heard a rustling from Ferns curtained room. A few minutes later Fern called out for Patsy, her voice a muffled sound against the patchy blue felt of the makeshift door. Patsy, unwilling to leave Seppies room unmanned, could only murmur softly to the teenager reassuringly and wait for her to slink out of her own room and seek Patsy out. This she did rather quickly.

Fern was pale and sweaty, her lank hair made more dirty under the hospital lights. Patsy couldn’t really judge her though, she herself must look an absolute mess right now. Fern still carried the useless hopefulness around her as she edged towards Patsy. She looked as though she was still half expecting Patsy to tell her it had all been a dream. That somehow and despite all evidence it wasn’t true.

The hope died again as their eyes met. Ferns chest started pumping but Patsy was a little more prepared this time and she reached to hook the girl around the knees onto her lap. Fern let her do it.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Patsy whispered against the soft curls of Ferns hair. Fern was shaking. She was so thin, Patsy rocked Fern while she sobbed fruitlessly, wishing tears were ever enough to change the world. But Allie was dead. Mick was dead. Ferns world was gone, the only way through it was to walk the next road and all Patsy could do was walk it with her.

Mine. You’re mine kid.

Patsy glued her eyes to the clock as Fern cried, the girl had curled herself more securely onto Patsys lap, waiting resolutely for the tears to fade out. Eventually everyone ran out of tears Patsy thought numbly, hers had stopped when Chas died, but Fern was young enough not to have experienced this sort of thing before and it took her an impressive half an hour before she finished. Patsy rubbed circles on the small of her back making as many soothing noises as seemed appropriate.

Behind her eyes Dyer burned.

“Patsy?” Fern said weakly from the circle of her arms just as the clock reached the perfect half way point.

“Yes sweetheart.” Patsy answered gently, looking down into lost, grey, puffy eyes.

“My mums really dead isn’t she?” Still with the hope, who’d have thought it was so hard to kill. Patsy didn’t want to do it but some realities were better faced head on. Slowly, she nodded. Ferns lip wobbled dangerously.

“Yes Fern. She died.” Patsy said clearly, calmly, making sure she didn’t blink. She’d done this conversation a few hundred times in her career but it had never gotten any easier. This time the personal note to the setting made it near impossible but she was the adult here. This was her job now. Rough and smooth.

Patsys calm delivery seemed to prevent another flood of tears at least as Fern gulped, her neck bobbing up and down while she sucked in air. Her nose was thick with encrusted snot and a few people walking past lent curious glances at them both. Patsy, looking around them at the open plan hospital corridor, decided suddenly that there was no need to be so exposed now that Fern wasn’t in her room and without preamble she lifted Fern up to her feet. Tugging the girl behind her like a limp balloon she walked them both into Seppies room.

She felt a bit better once the curtain was closed. There was a window with half closed blinds letting in vague shapes over on the opposite wall. Patsy squinted at it suspiciously as she sat rather awkwardly in one of the plastic chairs ranged close to the bed. Fern resumed her place on Patsy lap almost childishly, not wanting to be apart from her only source of support right now. Without comment, Patsy made space as a matter of course for her.

Fern pressed her head against Patsys neck. Her hands gripping Patsys bad hand like she had in the ambulance. Patsy took a deep breath through her mouth, pushing the pain away.

Seppie was in a proper bed now. Someone had pulled the covers up to her neck and the girls eyes was closed. Sleeping. The monitors beeped soothingly at them telling Patsy all was well.

“I told her I hated her.” Fern muttered distractedly from somewhere around Patsys collar. Patsy glanced down at the bullet head and ran her finger through it gently.

“You did?” She prodded without judgement. There was nothing she could do to change the facts now after all. Fern coughed chestily and gripped Patsy a little harder.

“I didn’t mean it... I knew we were leaving today and I remembered what you said about not telling her so I- I was so angry. She was all drugged up in the living room and I just shouted at her. She didn’t react or anything but I said it Pats. She thought I hated her.”

“She was your Mum Fern. She knew you loved her kid, just because you said that doesn’t change how she felt about you.” Patsy considered her experienced with Allie throughout the years and thought perhaps she was stretching the truth to breaking point right now. Allies maternal instincts were hardly good but still... Patsy remembered the woman’s outstretched hand, pointing to Seppie in the flat. She’d cared in some ways. Enough for the last moments at least.

“But I hated her and I hated her and now she’s dead!” Fern said in a low sort of agony and Patsy rocked her again, wishing she could make things better and knowing she couldn’t.

“She was your mother Fern. She knew you loved her and she loved you back. Some things might be complicated and we both know that it wasn’t perfect and maybe you were better off leaving that flat but deep down Allie loved you. She loved both of you.” She had. In the vague way only Allie had been capable of. She’d done her best even when her best wasn’t good enough and Patsy couldn’t change any of that.

“What are we going to do now? We haven’t got a home.” Fern went on bleakly her,voice losing colour as she rubbed her nose on Patsys filthy shirt.

For a moment only Seppies machines could be heard in the small space and then-

“You’ve got me Fern. I’m here for you.’ Patsy said quietly, unembarrassed by how much she truly meant it. Always now. This was it. Choices made. ‘I’ve got you kid. Both of you.”

Fern sat up a little, her face reaching out to Patsys between the tiny distance. Willing her to be honest.

“Do you really promise?” Fern asked softy. Patsy nodded grimly and opened her mouth to reply but before she could something caught her eye. A flash of something peeking through the blinds.

A face in a crowd.

Susan Griffiths was half jogging down the hallway. Patsy recognised the lurid flesh coloured monstrosity of a jumper and the flashing gold glint from glasses hanging on an ornate chain around a sagging chin long before the iron helmet of fluffy white hair had finished turning around the corner. Her hands tightened on Fern imperceptibly, her eyes flicked to Seppies sleeping body half hidden by blankets as a dreadful sinking fear clutched at her along with a mad urge to take them both and run.

She forced a slow deep breath as she ignored her traitorous brain. Show time then.

Without saying anything else Patsy gently deposited Ferns negligible weight into the other empty seat beside them. Ferns hand snaked automatically to reach for Patsys again, her face perplexed. There wasn't time for Patsy to offer any other kind of warning as the curtain swished opened and Susan bustled in.

That cardigan should have been banned Patsy thought to herself. It was just so... flesh coloured (flesh coloured is a unique shade that can be used to describe any shade slightly less vivid than peach. However, it is not yet understood quite who in the human race had an actual flesh tone that resembles that of a dead Hamster. Frankly it's anyone's guess). The shiny buttons on the woman's cardigan were too tightly done up over an impressive bust that looked as though it might burst forth at any given provocation.

It bobbed and swayed alarmingly like a buoy in the sea and drew the eye as Susan stopped and her outer regions took a few seconds to receive the message. She looked like she’d run here from the car park. Patsy wondered how long she’d known about this situation. She looked a rather rumpled sight in the midst of the neat hospital equipment, her candy floss hair a billowing mess on her head.

In a way Patsy felt that Susan was quite unfortunate really. A few hundred years ago men would have moulded clay effigies of the indominable woman and prayed at her clarks own brand loafered feet. Her hips all on their very own might not be the stuff of Hollywood but Patsy firmly believed the woman could have launched a ship with them if given a chance.

Patsy gulped. Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she felt Susan direct her austere gaze towards her. Fern looked between both of them. Not understanding the kind of shoot out that might be about to unfold.

"Constable Mount?' Susan asked efficiently, extending her hand for a shake, 'Sub Officer Sanders has just been telling me all about your heroics. It's very nice to finally put a face to a name."

"Ms Griffiths, likewise." Patsy said politely. They’d met before of course but Patsy had taken pains not to spend any time close to the woman. Social workers brought her out in hives. None the less she took the proffered hand with her good one and tried not to look like a woman who'd nearly burned to death in a flat fire hours previously. It was a tall order.

"You went above and beyond the call of duty as I understand it." Susan smiled with her mouth but her eyes didn't follow suit, she was examining Patsy much like a scientist exams a new strain of cancer. Attentive but less than pleased.

"Well, the girls and I have a long history. They mean a great deal, their safety means a great deal to me too." Patsy said bullishly, holding back the urge to yell at the woman.

Where the fuck had she been? Patsy had called her almost two weeks ago and the kids would still be in the flat for all Susan cared!

Patsy and Susan's eyes met. Susan's expression didn't change but she nodded as though something she’d been internally querying had been confirmed.

"I'm glad to hear it my dear. Now, I’m sorry to be so rushed but would you excuse us while I have a word with Fern. I shall need to file a report you understand." Susan stepped back slightly to create a thin beam of light from the doorway. It didn't sound like a request.

"Right...' Patsy glanced warily at Fern who was pale again, her eyes fixed on Susan fretfully. 'It's okay Fern, I'll be right outside if you need me." She murmured softly. Fern jumped, her hand gripping the arm rest of the chair.

"Why can't Patsy stay? She's got a right to be here, we're going home with her after Seppies all better."

Patsy sensed Susan bristle, her chest wobbling again as Fern bit her bottom lip but maintained a passable glare at her social worker.

"It's a little early for those sort of decisions I should think Fern.' Susan remonstrated in a grandmotherly voice that didn't quite mask her frustration. 'Constable Mount; if you could wait outside, I shall need to speak to you too after this."

Fern opened her mouth again as if to argue but closed it again when Patsy shot her a swift warning look.

Be smart kid.

"I'll be right outside." Patsy repeated firmly, squeezing Ferns hand for a moment again before walking past Susan and through the door with as much confidence as she could muster.

The door was swiftly closed behind her and she was left to stand rather foolishly in the brightly lit corridor. Alone again... But not really. Patsy frowned as someone coughed and she realised her position from earlier sitting sentry had been taken up by Kim.

She hadn’t bothered to look for the woman when they’d got here although of course she should have.

The older woman was sitting straight backed on the uncomfortable chair with her ankles crossed neatly holding a paper bag with the pharmacy cross on it. When she realised Patsy was watching her Kim stood up.

She didn't smile but Patsy wasn't put off, that was just Kim's way. Kim Sanders was usually dour even on her good days.

She was still wearing her uniform with the red braces and heavy buff trousers with boots but she'd discarded her work coat in deference to being in doors and had it now folded neatly over a crooked elbow. The dark blue t-shirt beneath was so crisp it almost looked like she'd just put it on. Patsy grumpily suspected the woman may have ironed it.

Ironed a t-shirt.

There was a name for people like that. Insane. Oh sure, Patsy had met a few of them in her life; the weirdos who ironed pillow cases (pillow cases!) and who thought asbestos was a really lovely name for a young girl. Such people are not to be trusted although occasionally they can be small talked with.

"Mount." Kim said briskly, nodding her head in greeting.

"Sanders." Patsy replied like wise watching the woman vaguely and wondering why the fire woman had stuck around.

Kim Sanders. Patsy, despite their brief interlude in the back of the fire truck, didn't know all that much about Kim. She knew that the woman had come in from another force from down south about six years ago under a bit of cloud. Patsy, despite a few half arsed attempts hadn't ever managed to find out what kind of cloud that had been. Kim kept her secrets close to her chest and Patsy had eventually come to the conclusion that it wasn't her place to ask. Besides, it wasn't like they knew each other all that well for the mystery to bug her too much.

They're main ‘interaction’ had been after a summer fete where the emergency services had set up booths for community integration on the big field up near one of the villages. Patsy had been roped in somehow because Dyer had flatly refused and she'd plastered on a grin as she'd been stuck handing out stress balls shaped like police cars for a whole afternoon. Kim had been sniping from the firemans tent next door and they'd all gone out to the pub afterwards when they’d packed up. They'd played pool; Kim had been very good and Patsy merely satisfactory and they'd end up half pissed. False courage flowing through her Patsy had jokingly asked Kim to see the fireman's pole, not particularly believing anything would happen but more to see the woman's response and, for reasons all of her own, Kim had agreed. That had been about the meat of it.

Kim had been quite surprisingly pliable in the sack. Given the hair and general prim and proper aura she gave off Patsy had expected her to be an old school butch but it hadn't worked out that way. Kim hadn't blinked much during as Patsy recalled, she'd only watched Patsy sharply the whole way through and then she'd curled up, turned her back and ignored Patsy.

They hadn't talked about it afterwards ever although Patsy had received the odd phone call where Kim had left her name and number. Patsy hadn't ever deigned to reply.

Now they stood side by side in the hallway; assessing one another carefully. Kim wasn't someone the term 'pretty' sat comfortably with so Patsy plumped for the more fitting term of handsome because... well, she was handsome. Her hair was neatly cut nearly down to the scalp but there was a small patch of grey growing in at her temples. The show of age didn't seem to be concern her and she hadn't bothered to dye it away. She exuded a kind of toughness about her. She took no shit from anyone and was usually known for going by the book on everything.

Patsy almost might have been inclined to like the woman for her unwavering choice to portray a frank and honest version of herself to the world if it wasn't for the fact that the woman irritated her on some dee unconscious level. Kim also gave off a general air of having had a broom handle stuck up her arse in her formative years and the subsequent coldness gave her a disinterested air that rubbed Patsy the wrong way. She was a competent fireman though, on the few mutual calls they'd done together they had worked well for the most part.

"You're one crazy bitch did you know that Mount?" Kim was talking now apparently. She didn't sound like she was attempting a compliment either.

"Yeah.' Patsy rubbed at the back of her head distractedly. 'It's been mentioned to me a few times."

"Still." Kim said a little wistfully, looking towards the door of the family room as though she understood what was happening in there.

"Still?" Patsy repeated questioningly wondering what the hell Kims story was. Kim seemed to remember herself at once; shaking her arms a little she turned to stare at a space a little away from Patsys head.

"The kids are okay?" Kim asked without inflection. She didn't blink as much as other people, her eyes were always serious business.

"Seppies got a few burns and she took on a lot of smoke but they're saying physically she'll be alright she just needs to sleep for a while. Fern...' Patsy shook her head thinking of her brief conversation with the girl; this was going to be so difficult. 'I don't know, it's all a mess."

"Lucky they've got a nutter like you then, keeping watch. You're used to messes as I recall." Kim didn't add any particular inflection to that point but then again she hardly needed to.

Patsy slid her good hand into the pocket of her jeans as she swapped her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly.

Ho hum, it happened on occasion and Patsy was too tired to try and avoid it. The Talk.

This was going to be the part where they did that terribly formal thing that people did when they are forced to converse with someone they've seen naked. Didn't matter if it was yesterday or five years ago. The big British politeness habit was ingrained to the bone; inescapable as it was, a very small yet insistent brain cell probably wearing a bowler hat told the rest of the brain that you shouldn't be strangers somehow even though you were.

"Yeah... They're the lucky ones." Patsy agreed a little sarcastically. She really did have no idea what she was going to do.

"That was a really stupid move back there you know,' Kim said bracingly, still not meeting Patsys eye, 'you could have got yourself killed."

"I didn't see that I had all that many options to me.' Patsy bit back, taking the bait, 'you weren't exactly helping me."

"I had orders, some of us like to follow the rules Mount." Kim said it with just a slight hint of broom handle. Patsy leapt on the opportunity to rail at a likely victim.

"Stupid orders. Stupid rules. Seppie would probably be dead if we all followed rules like that." Patsy cut in.

"All the same...' Kim gave a careless nod. 'It's not my job to question them."

"But you still came and got us in the end. What happened to your orders then?" Patsy demanded in frustration. Pot and kettle and all of that.

Kim looked momentarily blank and then reanimated in a rather stiff shrug with a gruff kind of throaty cough.

"Situations change, couldn't let some plod take trumptons glory now could I?" Kim surprised Patsy with the swiftest of winks before her face resumed its mile long stare. Patsy bit her lip as pride warred with irritation and exhaustion. Oh hell, she better say it.

"Kim?"

"Mount?"

"Thanks... You really saved my bacon. I owe you one." Well, she had after all. Patsy wasn't adverse to lying praise where it was owed even if the woman could do with loosening up a little.

"You'd do the same I'm sure." Kim replied stiffly.

"Yeah...' Would she though? Patsy fidgeted uneasily as she tried to imagine the situation in reverse. She'd have ripped Kim a new one for being so reckless. Patsy looked the woman over; she was about the same height as her with a broad back and a long, hard face. Patsy thought she looked a bit pale, there were dark circles under her eyes. She seemed ill almost.

'Kim?" Patsy had a sudden urge to try and make a bit more effort with this woman. God knows she should have done more in the past.

"Mount?" Kim answered blithely, her eyes still fixed a few inches to the left of Patsys right ear.

"Is everything alright with you?" Small talk. Patsy was never all that good with it but it was what you were supposed to do wasn't it?

"Am I alright? You're asking me if I'm alright?" Kim sounded faintly amused but she didn't smile. Didn't look at Patsy either.

"You had a dog didn't you? Bono?" Patsy tried to recall if that was right or not. At some point she'd definitely been to someone's house and they'd had some kind of dog... Or was it a budgie?

That was the thing about one night stands. You were never supposed to see them again afterwards. So far this month Patsy was just chucking all of her well kept rules out the damn window it seemed.

"Cat; Meredith, she died last November. Nice try though." Kim went on, unaware of Patsys internal monologue.

"Oh...' Patsy hesitated again feeling as though more was required of her. 'Suppose I probably should have tried to make a bit more effort." Patsy muttered, an increasingly familiar swell of guilt sloshing around in her gut.

"You could have answered your phone maybe but,' Kim shrugged convivially, 'these things happen. I get it, don't worry."

"I'm sorry if I upset you." Patsy said in a small voice. She sounded like an idiot but at least it was a sincere idiot.

"Mount, do us both a favour and stop expecting me to do tampons and tears will you.' Kim said suddenly waspish, 'I don't do that kind of thing. We weren't exactly Juliet and Juliet and I'm fine."

"No... You're right... Sorry." Patsy gave up. Despite the obvious tension she felt oddly relaxed all of a sudden, it was as though some insubstantial yet real burden had been removed from her shoulders.

"I'm glad the kids are okay." Kim continued in an easier tone now, looking towards the exam room where Sues pink cardigan flashed between the blinds. Patsy blinked at then too, a warmth spreading through her as she saw Ferns face for a second.

She'd saved them. For once, she'd saved someone... Now she had to keep it that way.

"They're good kids." Patsy muttered, aware Kim was finally watching her with an unfathomable look.

"You're adopting them?" Kim asked nonchalantly. Patsy stiffened, hating that someone knew what she doing.

"Err.. Yes. Going to try anyway."

"You were adopted weren't you?"

"Err' Patsy hesitated again, not really wanting to talk about this sort of thing with Kim and unsure how Kim had heard that particular nugget of information. 'Yeah, sort of."

"It's nice to give back." Kim said pleasantly but with the kind of knowing undertone that set Patsys teeth on edge. There was nothing more irritating than people who pretended to understand when they didn't.

"Yeah." Patsy said noncommittally, wanting the conversation to end and finding, to her surprise, that for once she got her wish as Susan stepped back out of the exam room looking grim. Kim merely folded her arms and looked towards the wall.

Didn't walk away though Patsy noted. Nosy bugger. Susan was watching Patsy with an almost calculating gleam in her eye.

“Fern informs me that you intend to house both herself and September?” Susan asked without any preamble. Patsy glanced at Kim who was now studiously reading the same paper Patsy had been reading an hour ago. She’d still be listening though Patsy was sure of it.

Patsy felt a slight unease about speaking so candidly of a subject that mattered near people but...What the hell was there to lose right now? Patsy raised her chin defiantly.

“She’s correct. That is what I intend to do. As soon as possible, with or without your help.” Patsy couldn’t stop have stopped herself if she’d tried and anyway she didn’t much want to. Susan’s eyes narrowed, her nostrils thinning dangerously.

“And while that’s an admirable assent constable Mount you must understand the situation.”

“Situation?” Patsy repeatedly coolly. The only way those girls were leaving here for anywhere besides her place would involve a crow bar and a big bucket of grease.

“The girls are now wards of the state constable, their future is in my hands. I am responsible for them until an appropriate guardian can be found and-” Susan was speaking in that learned by heart way that Patsy recognised immediately as a professional way of telling her no.

“Hah!’ Patsy gave an angry laugh, ‘then they haven’t got much hope have they?”

“I’m sure I don’t understand what you’re implying const-“ Susan said in a pained voice.

“Oh really?’ Patsys ears rung with the injustice. It had been a very wearing day and she didn’t want to be polite. ‘I called you. I warned you they were in danger. You did nothing, Seppie was nearly killed just for the sake of your precious paperwork. They needed you and you failed in your duty. They don’t need you anymore Ms Griffiths. They’ve got me now and I assure you they’ll be far safer in my care than yours.”

“Constable Mou-“ Susan was employing the wounded old lady stunt but Patsy didn’t give it a moments notice. She didn’t care about Susan’s fucking feelings.

“I love those girls do you understand. I want them, I’ll look after them. What other options do you have? They’ve got no family around these parts, I’ve known them since they were tiny. I’ve been around Seppie since she was born.”

“Constable amount if I could interject-“ Susan shouted hoarsely but Patsy was on a roll now.

“I’ve got a good job, I can get a bigger house if the damned rules say I need to. I know how to sign as good as any shitty foster family you could find anywhere. They wouldn’t have to leave their home, Poplar is where their used to. They could have some kind of stability with me and I care. I care about them, not the idea of them.”

“Constable Mount I quite agree!” Susan stepped forward, her face red but pleased as she saw that she’d managed to shut Patsy up at last. Patsy felt her next words die in her throat as she blinked stupidly at the woman from across the hall.

“You agree?” Patsy asked in shock. Susan merely straightened her glasses slightly with a prim sniff.

“As I was going to say’ Susan shot Patsy a nasty look, ‘I am responsible for them until an appropriate guardian can be found and having looked at the girls case file your name is down as the next of kin by Alison in the event of catastrophe or loss of life.”

Patsy stared at Susan, her mouth hanging open as she tried to digest this new turn of events. She didn’t know what to say only managing a strangled sort of ‘oh’.

“You were not aware of this I take it?” Susan asked with a smug sort of smile, polishing the thick lenses of her glasses now with the fluffy cuff of her jumper.

“I... No, she never told me.” Patsy whispered weakly.

“She assured me she had. It was a necessity should the children be taken into care but I was of the impression you were already aware given your phone call to me. Am I to take it that you would be happy with this arrangement.”

Patsy stared at the woman still desperately trying to keep up. Was it really going to be that easy? Susan was watching her keenly and Patsy realised she hadn’t replied yet.

“Yes. Yes of course. I can really look after them?”

“Were you expecting us to whip out the thumb screws?” Susan asked rather tartly, still smarting from Patsys shouting obviously.

“I... Well now that you mention it, yes, sort of.”

“You’re lucky that Allie was asked to place such a precaution in. I should explain that we, that is to say the service as a whole, will continue to visit regularly to ensure the relationship is positive. If you agree to informal guardianship then you will be legally responsible for their wellbeing but you will not be entitled to any social support. Is this going to be a problem?”

“Umm, no, of course not.” Patsy felt shaky. The world was a confusing spiral all around her and she wished Helen was here. She didn’t want to be alone in this. Susan was nodding her head.

“In that case I’ll leave you to tell Fern the happy news. She’s rather upset with me at the moment although she seems to think very highly of you.’ Susan gave a sniff as though she thought Fern was wrong and then went on. ‘Speaking to the nursing team it’s expected that September will stay a few nights in the children’s ward for observation, I have agreed it that Fern can stay with her. I shall be back when they are dismissed and we’ll take the girls to your home together. In the meantime I’ll be in touch to discuss a more in-depth home inspection.”

Patsy opened her mouth to say something but gave up as Susan turned swiftly to Kim. They greeted one another like old friends and Patsy was left to stare at the curtain leading back into the room.

She was vaguely aware of Susan making her apologies and leaving again but only really registered that the truth of the situation when she felt Kim rest a hand on her shoulder.

“Like I said Mount, you’re an absolute idiot but I do admit I admire your style.’ She laughed, ‘can’t believe you spoke to old Sue like that. She’ll be on your case now but I suppose you already know that.”

Patsy was still watching the door, something loud crashed from inside and jolted her. Kim must have felt her shoulders muscles bunch because she let Patsy go with a strange theatrical kind of bow.

“Well, off you go Mount. What are you waiting for?”

Something else crashed from inside Seppies room and Patsy walked towards it. She didn’t bother to say goodbye to Kim. The woman was already forgotten.

Once inside the room the source of the noise became obvious although no less confusing. The chairs which before she’d left had been pressed near the bed were now overturned and wedged underneath it.

Fern was nowhere in sight.

“Fern?” Patsy asked curiously to the supposed empty space.

“You can fuck off!” Came the rather unexpected reply from ankle level. Fern was under the bed apparently.

“Fern?” Patsy asked again, frowning at one of the jutting feet of the closest chair.

"I'm not going! You can't make me!" Was all of Ferns reply. Something ripped from beneath the mattress.

"Going?' Patsy dodged something tubular as it was flung in the direction her head from the other side of the bed, trying to keep her voice calm. 'Were you thinking of going somewhere?"

"Don't mess me around Pats,' Fern snapped angrily, 'I saw you talking to Sue. You were agreeing with her.”

"That's right. I was." Patsy said calmly, trying to work out where exactly Fern was right now.

"Well I saw it; so much for you having our back." Ferns bitterness was a punch to the stomach and Patsy sighed as she gave in to the inevitable and knelt precariously on an aching knee to peer through the chair legs. Fern was sat hunched up against the wall half covered by the bed frame.

"Fern, sweetheart, come out of there. We need to have a talk." Patsy cajoled soothingly. Her knee was on fire where the bruises from earlier were pressing against the hard floor.

"A talk?' Fern hissed, her teeth flashing in the dark. 'So you can tell me you've signed us over? You lied to us. You lied to me. All of it was just one big lie!"

"I've never lied to you, come out of there and talk to me Fern. I'm on your side kid." Patsys whole leg was shaking now as her bones seemed to be melting in to one another. Patsy ignored it as she reached her hand palm out to try and touch Ferns leg. Something hard swiped at it viscously and she nearly lost her balance.

"You're lying!' Fern growled. 'You're lying to me right now. You said we could live with you, you said you'd keep us safe, you said you wanted us and you don't! You're just like everyone else. Now everyone's dead you're just going to throw us away! I'm not going Pats! You can't make me!" Ferns accusations, the hurt, all of it was like stepping back in time. This was why she needed Helen. Patsy rested her forehead against the cool metal of the Hoskins bed frame.

"Is that right?" Patsy breathed softly.

"Yeah that's right!" Fern agreed with a tearful sniff. Patsy straightened up and rubbed her thigh to try and keep it from caving in.

"Well then, best you stay with me in that case." Patsy said matter of factly, still watching Ferns leg.

"You c- What?" Fern broke off abruptly, her voice switching so suddenly it was almost funny. Patsy didn't laugh. She made sure she sounded as solemn as the grave.

"I said in that case you had best stay with me then." Patsy enunciated every word and felt them tumble into the black hole in front of her. She saw Ferns legs relax as the girl took in what she'd said.

"You...' Ferns tone now very reminiscent to when a fast car hits its breaks suddenly. She was breathing hard from the shadows. 'But you were nodding to her, I saw you through the window... You were agreeing with her."

"That's right' Patsy nodded her head, her temples were pulsing horribly. 'I was. Your Sue talked a lot of sense and after a brief discussion we agreed you can stay with me.”

"You... You did?" Fern sounded like she didn't trust what she was saying and Patsy decided she'd had enough.

"Fern' Patsy sighed and with a great effort bent a little more into the void to tug at a limp wrist, 'I'd run through hell itself for you and your sister. Believe me; I'm not going anywhere without you. You're mine kid and if you want to then I'll be yours. I'm your person."

"But... I thought you were leaving us." Fern whispered shakily as she sniffed.

"Not going to happen kid.' Patsy shook her head wearily again. 'Come out here will you, I'm not in peak crouching condition at the minute."

There was a long pause and then, to Patsys relief, a general scrabbling of chair legs as the rubber heels scraped across hospital linoleum. A rather puffy face loomed out through the darkness and then crushed itself into Patsys chest.

"You better not be joking with me." Fern muttered still teary. Patsy pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying.

"Me? Never. I promised you I'd look after you Fern. We're in this together now alright."

"We really get to live with you?" Fern asked bleakly and Patsys squeezed her spindly shoulders a little more tightly.

"Yeah, you get to live with me." Always. Shit a brick if that wasn't the scariest thing she'd ever agreed to and yet... Patsy would sort this out. She would keep these kids safe. Somehow.

"Seppie too?" Fern asked tremulously and Patsys chest tightened even as she barked out a wry laugh.

"As if you have to ask Seppie too?' Patsy rolled her eyes. 'Fern, I dragged her from a burning building, of course it's Seppie too. Both of you are mine now. You really think I'd let them take you two from me?"

"I... I wasn't sure." Fern whispered. Patsy shook her head despairingly.

"I promised that I'd look after you Fern. Both of you. Even before all of this I promised didn't I and I damn well meant it. I'll look after you, for as long as you want me to."

"That's going to be a long time." Fern muttered. Patsy smiled and leant back in her chair. Fern fidgeted into her lap, her cheek pressed against Patsys heart while Seppies machine beeped rhythmically. Neither of them felt like talking much more after that.

—

They moved Seppie into the children’s ward a few hours later. Fern had fallen asleep again in the lull and Patsy, in the mechanical way that people do in times like these, switched on the television just for something to do.

Disney ward was a headache inducing swirl of brightly coloured stickers and yellow looking children.

They wheeled Seppie into a side room and Lucille, who had followed them down, helped Patsy out by getting an orderly to make up a bed for Fern. Patsy hadn’t even had to tell the girl to get in once it was done. Fern was sleeping again now and Seppies machines beeped furtively. The ward was quiet and weirdly calm viewed through the blinds of the hospital room.

That was when Patsy saw Delia first. She was talking urgently at the front desk near the main doors. She looked amazing to Patsys exhausted brain and unshakeably real.

Her heart thumping unevenly Patsy walked out of the room to greet Delia. She was almost beside her before Delia recognised her though. Patsy discerned a far away gasp and then a hand was touching her cheek.

Patsy gave a half smile and tugged the hand and it’s owner a few paces back until they were stood near an alcove. A curtain rail pressed against Patsys back.

"You were literally out of my sight for a few hours. How on earth can you be this hurt this fast?" Delia looked shocked as she edged past the curtain and stepped a foot away from Patsy still peering suspiciously at her.

Patsy looked down at her boots ruefully. There was blood on the toe of her left shoe. The soles were a mess of melted rubber. Looked like they'd been made from used tyres and then, realising Delia was expecting some sort of explanation gave a watery smile and shrugged.

"What can I say?' Patsy muttered expansively as though revealing a big secret, 'I'm talented in small but unbelievably specific ways." Patsy couldn't help but grin stupidly. It was either laugh or cry right now.

"You're burnt.' Delia went on, blatantly disregarding the poor attempts at humour still obviously trying to get a grip on the situation. 'Why aren't you in a bed?"

Patsy puffed out her cheeks and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Something about all of this was incredibly funny in a totally unfunny way. Delias presence was a light in the dark and Patsy didn't want to let it blow out yet.

The darkness could wait a few minutes.

"Oh Delia... I don't think I'm really up for that right now, maybe later though." Patsy could barely stifle the hysterical laughter as it scraped up her oesophagus. Delia shook her head, unseated but still wonderfully fond. She reached to stroke a frazzled strand of Patsys hair wonderingly.

"You're a nightmare Patience Mount. What on earth am I going to do with you?" She asked bemusedly. Patsy batted her eyelashes for all she was worth.

"Stroke my hair and tell me I'm pretty?"

“Have you hit your head?” Delia seemed committed to serious mode and Patsy felt her smile die. Nothing was really all that funny when she thought about it.

“Would you believe me if I told you no?” Patsy hedged carefully.

“No.” Delia replied point blank still frowning. Patsy sighed.

“I’m burnt a bit, smoke inhalation but my heads fine. How did you know where to find us?”

“Red Cross remember?’ Delia murmured vaguely, ‘I saw Lucille and she told me where you were.”

“Ahh’ Patsys legs felt suddenly shaky. There was a chair close by and she sat down rather than fall. ‘That would explain it then.” She mumbled tiredly.

"How did this happen... You said there was a fire in your message." Delia hesitated, her confusion evident. Patsy closed her eyes briefly not really in the mood to think everything through again but pushing past the creeping fatigue for Delia. She chose to give the quick version; skirting over how close to dying she'd actually come.

No need to worry Delia too much right now.

When she'd finished her story Delia released Patsy with a thoughtful hmmph and looked back towards the hallway distractedly as though half hoping someone might be about to jump out and shout 'surprise'. When no one did she seemed to harden, the line of her shoulders straightening.

"But... Why?' Delia sounded like she wanted to cry as she pressed her fingers to her eyes. 'Why would someone do that to you? To the girls, you said their parents were questionable but this... murder?"

Patsy opened her mouth to offer some kind of reassurance but all that came out was a kind of hysterical laughing sob. It fountained out of her lips in great peeling refrains to bounce around the room. It sounded haunted in the tight space. Sounded mad. Delia took a wary step backwards, her expression becoming that of a concerned nurse immediately.

"I'm getting the sister, they should have treated you already. I can't believe no ones done anything yet." Delia said sternly and turned as if to stride away. Patsys heart stuttered.

"No.' Patsy fought down the weak urge to break down now that she wasn’t alone and somehow stifled away the mad laughter along with it. She didn't want Delia to go anywhere right now. Careless of Delias reluctance was or fear Patsy flung her bad arm out clumsily to grip the loop of Delias jeans. 'Stay, please. I'm fine, honestly."

"Cache! Your hand!' Delias face lost all colour as she spotted Patsys blister. Before Patsy could withdraw her grip again Delia had lunged forwards to gingerly clasp Patsy reddened hand between her own. Her eyes were wide as she threw another cursory glance across Patsys person. 'Jesus Pats, you're really hurt aren't you."

"It's fine.' Patsy said again. She didn't really want to talk about her physical condition right now. With effort she tried to smile reassuringly and pulled her hand away, tucking it smoothly in her jeans pocket out of sight. From the tightening of Delia features Patsy sensed that the Welsh woman was less than convinced. 'Honestly,' Patsy gave her leg a gentle twitch. 'See; I just need to keep moving. A few nurses tried to get me to sit down in the ambulance but I needed to be here, they'd have pumped me with pain meds if I'd let them and then I would have been useless." Patsy needed Delia to understand. If she understood then maybe she wouldn't be terrified when Patsy made her next request.

"I'm sure they could have kept an eye on the girls while you rested." Delia said irritably, her clever hands picking at Patsys neck now, her fingertips a gentle promise. So gentle. Delia was so wonderful, her presence inviting. Patsy had to fight not to bend into the touch. A not too small part of her just wanted to give in to it. But...

"No.' Patsy straightened regretfully, her head pounding as a flash of hurt sped across Delias face at the rejection. 'I have to be here, awake and alert; something might happen."

"Like what?' Delia said frustrated, running her fingers distractedly through her fringe. 'Patsy what the hells going on? You were absolutely fine a few hours ago and now look at you. Don't try and tell me things are better than they are. You look like you're about to pass out."

Patsy hung her head. She wanted to be as small as Fern, wanted Delia to wrap her arms around her. She wanted to be safe. Wanted everyone to be safe and there was only one way to do that.

Truth time.

"Someone... is trying to kill me I think." God, she sounded crazy saying it out loud.

"Kill you?' Delias forehead creased as she peered at Patsy in genuine alarm now although evidently not because she seemed to think Patsy was serious, more that she thought Patsy was unwell instead. 'Patsy... Why would anyone want to kill you?"

Patsy stared at her, her shoulders sagging. She sighed. Oh well, might as well get the hardest part over. This would go one of two ways; Delia would either believe her or she wouldn't.

"Abraham. His name is Abraham; he... He's the man who ran the cult I grew up in.' Patsy had to be clear about this but God she hated to even talk about Him. 'He killed everyone, he killed my family and he's back. In Poplar. Here. I think he's trying to the kill people who I'm close to."

"People you're close to...' Delia just stared at Patsy, her mouth hanging open. 'What does that mean exactly?"

And suddenly the exhaustion that Patsy had been pushing against since the fire seemed to roll over her. God, she was tired. She wished she was someone else. Anyone else.

"Delia, I'm so sorry." It scared Patsy how tired she sounded. It didn't seem to reassure Delia that much either.

"What does that mean?" Delia repeated again, her voice sharpening.

"It means...You're in danger. I've put you in danger.' Patsy should have left Delia after their meal. She should never have gone to Delias from the beach. Shoulda woulda coulda. 'The girls... I just need everyone to stay still until I can think what to do."

"But... why would I be in danger?"

"He knew about the kids,' Patsy could only get through this by talking out loud. She couldn't look at Delia right now. The sense of guilt was suffocating. 'He knew about the phone I gave to Fern. I think he's been watching me somehow and... if he knew about all of that then it's only a matter of time before he knows about you too. I'm not really sure of anything right now but... I think I know where I can get some answers." Phil. It was definitely time for Patsy to make a little trip to visit Phil. Tonight if possible.

"Answers?' Delia was gawping now, her mouth slack but still, she tried to drive through the craziness. That was the good thing about Delia Patsy reflected; she was bloody well grounded. Probably too grounded to be hanging around with the likes of Patsy really. 'Pats, this is insane, I think you've hit your head or something. Nothing you've said makes any sense."

"I know... I'm sorry Delia. I think I've put you in danger.' Cowards route there; Patsy knew damn well she'd put Delia in danger. 'I just needed to see you. I need your help."

"Me? What can I do? Pats, I really want to get a nurse in here, you're bleeding." Delias voice was a plea for sanity where there was none. She pointed almost violently towards Patsys arm as though begging her to start making sense.

Patsy looked down at where Delia pointed dazedly and saw, to her mild consternation, that she was right. Little specks of browny red were drying on the curve of her elbow. She didn't look for too long though. It changed nothing.

"Doesn't matter.' Patsy said briskly. 'I don't have time. I need to find out the facts." Dyer. She needed to find Dyer. She needed to end this.

"What sort of facts?" Delia had reverted to bemused suspicion again. Patsy took a deep breath through her nose.

"I need to see a colleague of mine... I think he knows what's going on, think he's involved somehow. I need to see him. Today."

"You're leaving?' Delia glowered disbelievingly looking panicked. 'Patsy no, you're in no fit state to go anywhere."

Patsy couldn't watch Delias anger. A distance was growing between them and she hated it. Patsy fought the urge to wrap her arms around Delias waist and drag her closer. She hated that she didn't have something easier to ask.

"I can't leave the girls alone though. I don't want you alone either... I need someone I can trust to stay with them."

"Patsy there's no way I'm going to let you walk out of here.' Delia pressed her hands to her hips and there was that teacher tone. It would have been adorable if everything wasn't so serious right now. 'Look at you; you can barely keep your eyes open."

As if to prove her wrong Patsy opened her eyes wide ignoring the fact that Delia was absolutely right. They'd been sliding shut against her best efforts. She could stop it, she just felt so damn weary.

"I'll be fine, I've had worse."

"Patsy, no." Delia tapped her toe agitatedly against the tiles, her voice stern. Patsy wanted to kiss her but instead she forced herself to look into those blue eyes.

"Please Delia; I trust you and right now that's a rare thing. I know you'll look after them while I'm gone."

"I don't even know them Patsy.' Delia shrugged convulsively and slapped her sides again in frustration. 'I don't think you're seeing things clearly."

"They left Seppie to burn alive Delia.' Cold fury mounted inside Patsys body, red hot rage tinged her sight. Blinded her to the calm body that was Delia. That truth was everything; it was the why that Patsy would cling to. Seppies tiny body was a ghost in her arms. If she lived to be a hundred she wouldn't be able to forget it. She would find them all. She would stop this. No one would hurt them again. Those kids were hers. 'Five years old; parents dead. I'm all they've got now and I have to make things better. I have to fix it and the only way to do that is to go out there and find the guys that did it. Don't you understand I haven't got a choice?"

Patsy couldn't keep still, her knees were knocking together as her teeth clenched. Behind her eyes she saw Dyers face. She longed to feel his neck between her fingers.

"Ring the police.' Delias suggestion smacked of desperation, her arms were wrapping around Patsy as though she wanted to keep Patsy safe. 'Tell your boss everything; let them deal with it."

"No.' Patsy pressed her face into Delias shirt. Delia smelled clean, grounding, she had no idea how she could make Delia understand. It had to be her, this was personal, 'I don't know who I can trust anymore. Besides, if I ring the station then it might get back to the wrong ears and then everyone will be in even more danger."

"How can so many people be on his side?" Delia whispered from somewhere above Patsys head and Patsy felt her lips curve into a mirthless grimace.

"He's good at making friends... I've got to go."

"It sounds dangerous." Delia muttered dubiously.

"Walking out of your doors in the morning is dangerous."

"Patsy...' against both of their better judgements Delia ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of Patsys neck and Patsy pressed her face a little more into the soft press of cotton. It felt wonderful even if the reality wasn't. 'You're insane."

"I know... ' Wearily Patsy pulled back and picked at Delias hands. They were small hands, soft hands that looked almost funny trapped between Patsys bigger dirty ones but they fit... For the first time in her life Patsy had found something she wanted to hold on to. Reverently, Patsy kissed the tips of Delias thumb and then blinked upwards, hoping Delia could trust her. 'I'm sorry to put everything on you... I never wanted anything to happen like this. I'm so sorry to ask you, I'm sorry it's going wrong and I swear I'll understand if you want to walk away and never come back after it's done. I'm sorry Delia, I'm so sorry for everything, but I need you to help me. You're the only person I trust to protect my girls at the moment... Please."

"You were only gone a few hours.' Delia sighed, sounding wistful as she squeezed Patsys good hand. 'What will you look like when I see you next time if I let you walk away?"

Patsy considered this as she languished in the sweet realisation that Delia hadn't run away yet.

"The same I hope."

Delia shook her head and took a deep breath, her chin setting into a hard line like a general who's been told the wars started again.

"I don't want to run Patsy... But you need to promise me that you're going to be safe."

"You'll stay then?" Patsy asked softly, carefully avoiding making promises.

"I wish you'd stay too. You really need to get yourself checked over cariad." Cariad? Delia was still calling her cariad and it felt amazing.

For a moment Patsy saw the future she wanted; the kids, Delia. It could almost work. Somehow.

But then there was Abraham. Looming over Patsy with his mile wide shadow and almost as suddenly as it had appeared to her the future shattered. Patsy pulled away, groaning as she dragged herself back to her feet. Everything hurt but that meant she wasn't dead yet. She'd been worse before.

"Not until it's over."

"When will that be?" Delia hadn't tried to stop Patsy standing up, she'd allowed her space but her eyes still watched the red head warily.

Patsy smiled grimly, her mouth the curve of a blade in the dark.

"Soon... It has to be soon."

"And you want me to watch your... The kids? You move fast slick."

"Seppies asleep, she should be fine. Fern will understand, she's had a rough time and she wants the monsters to go away too."

"Well... You certainly seem very sure of yourself."

"I'm glad you think so... That's half the battle."

"Have I ever told you I like your eyes...' Delia stroked Patsys cheek with a thumb before sighing and looking at the doorway. 'You better come back to me after all this you know. I have plans to spend time with you when you don't look like an extra for the walking dead."

"You do?" Patsy said wonderingly. It seemed crazy that someone amidst all of this was making plans that extended past today.

"Oh yes.' Delia said with a touch of sarcasm as she squared her shoulders looking like she was preparing for battle. Patsy felt the corners of her mouth twitch tiredly. 'Well, come on then, let's get this done."

"Can I ask one more favour before we go in?"

"Another one? I don't suppose it much matters now either way, what is it?"

Patsy stared at Delia, drank in her placid, certain, honest face. Patsy would come home for this. For all of this.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, yeah, still here lol.
> 
> Huge apologies for the slight delay; I’ve just been crazy busy. Only had odd snippets of time to get anything written down which has resulted in this massive bundle of conversation and things that might be a bit messy as I’ve had to leave and pick it all up again on repeat when I’ve tried to write and been interrupted. 
> 
> To be honest I wasn’t looking forward to writing this chapter as much as I am the next one. It’s not particularly exciting really, it’s more of a lining up the players for the next act exercise and the subjects a tough one when your doing a million things. I’m really concerned I didn’t do Ferns scenes justice but hopefully it’s still good to you guys. 
> 
> Next chapter is the dreaded whys and how’s. And we’ll learn about Helens whereabouts too.
> 
> Ps: Seppies speech should be in bold but a03 is being weird and keeps freezing on me. Hopefully it’s clear enough, I’ll try and fix it tomorrow.
> 
> SB


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face to face, out in the heat  
> Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry  
> They stack the odds 'till we take to the street  
> For the kill with the skill to survive
> 
> Eye of the tiger- survivor 
> 
> WARNING- right, I don’t do these usually but this might trigger people so yeah. Phil has been a very bad man, don’t read this if it’s going to mess with your head please.

The short act of leaving hurt more than Patsy thought it would. Delia gave her her phone without argument, gave Patsy her car key too which made everything so much simpler and yet so very final.

No one told her she had to stay. No one dared to even try though a small, traitorous part of Patsy had wished they would.

Fern too had been accepting of Patsys leaving. She’d received Patsy with an unnerving certainty in her thin face. Patsy had made half certain promises of a return and that had seemed to be enough for the girl.

Now all she had to do was make sure she wasn’t a liar. She’d left all her girls sitting in a tiny hospital room together and it had hurt her to leave it. Somehow she would find a way to get back to them but first... Dyer.

Patsy parked in a small car park a little way away from the house to stop any prying eyes from wondering who was visiting and walked the rest of the way. Her leg made it slow work, she didn’t know quite what she’d done to it but she knew it was stiff. Painful. 

Still. She continued on. Determined.

Val and Phils house was a detached two up, two down set on the end of a wide sprawling street full of people who had enough money that they didn’t need neighbourly affection. No one bothered her or looked out as she passed large, unpersonalised houses. It was a fancy area but sometimes these were the places where the bigger crimes happened. At least in Micks block of flats no one pretended they were better than they were but here, here everything was a show.

When she’d first visited Patsy had wondered how Phil could afford the place on a sergeants salary alone with Val not working. It had a big garden at the front with grass and a few sad looking border shrubs wilting in the sun and another much larger garden around the back with quaint little picket fences encircling it all like a girdle. Patsy had been here only once for a bbq a few years ago before she’d started something with Val. After Val she’d refused to come back; she hadn’t been that strong. Phil had been drunk as Patsy recalled, long before the burgers had even been cooked and Val had cried behind the shed because she thought people were laughing at her. Everyone had pretended not to notice. Even then Patsy had thought the big house was too good to be true.

Only people in the movies lived like this. It wasn’t real life... But that was Phil all over Patsy thought sourly. Looks over substance every time. 

It took a surprisingly short period of time to get into Dyers house although it was less down to skill than she’d like to admit. He’d left the door unlocked. Cocky little shit. Patsy considered her options for a moment after checking the handle wondering if she should storm inside. Take Phil by surprise.

And then she hesitated.

She’d not really come with a plan for this bit, she’d been more focused on actually getting here and now she was... She didn’t know how to deal with the problem. How was best. She needed to know what was going on but that didn’t mean Phil would tell her.

Patsy cast a cursory glance at the window but nothing stirred from behind the thin voile.

Such a pretty house. So different to Micks home, gone to ruin now.

An image of Seppie floated through her brain, the cold feel of her body in her arms and the red mists rolled back, crushing away common sense. Patsy smelt burning again.

There was a garden round the back of the house overlooking empty corn fields mostly. Phil had paid someone to deck it out at some point and over half the grasses covered by shiny wood with a large five job bbq on metal stilts upon it. There was a shed that wasn’t really necessary for so much grass tucked away in the corner nestled by the thick hedge. Patsy followed the path around the house to it cautiously.

The kitchen window overlooked the garden and she paused in the shade of the house as she rounded the corner; listening intently for some noise that suggested Dyer was there. Watching. With a thrill she realised there was only silence. 

She felt reckless. She felt alive as she crab walked over to the shed and pulled open the door almost wishing Phil would run out so she could fight him here and now.

Inside was the usual shed scene. A large red petrol lawnmower took up most of the cramped space with tools hanging neatly on racks beside it. Close to the back she thought she spotted ancient boxes of Christmas lights half hidden behind an old pair of boots covered in grass. The boxes were filmy under a thick layer of dust and Patsy thought about Val and wondered if the woman had put them in here year after year. Locked in an endless cycle of showmanship.

Such a waste.

Pushing away the emotions she didn’t want to feel Patsy searched for what she wanted. There was a small square petrol can wedged beside the front wheel of the mower with a black plastic nozzle attached and clipped to its side securely, Patsy sloshed it around and smelt the scent she’d detected in Micks flat.

Something like poetic justice occurred to her.

Pulling it more firmly into her grasp Patsy backed out of the shed half expecting to hear shouts or calls of alarm from inside Phils home but there was nothing. Maybe the universe was on her side for once.

The back door presented her no trouble either and the plastic and glass entry opened at her touch. No one was waiting for her. No one seemed to be in apparently.

Petrol in hand Patsy stepped quietly into the airy kitchen with its beige walls and beige sideboards. It didn’t look neglected, just unused. There was a large wooden table and chairs pressed against one wall and a few dirty plates shoved in the sink but again it looked like it was all there as more of a prop than a real sign of use. Somehow Patsy couldn’t imagine Phil and Val sitting in here, eating a meal together.

Slung across the top corner of the furthest chair was a chunky black utility belt. Patsy recognised it instantly because she owned one herself. There were attachments hanging from it, pouches and pockets. Patsy didn’t even stop to think.

She hurriedly rested the can on the table and, in quick succession, pulled out two pairs of handcuffs and a bottle of pepper spray. She shook this item hard and felt the slight movement inside that said it wasn’t empty. She pocketed all three and picked up the petrol can again.

Well then, that was the plan sorted. Sort of.

Where was Phil though?

She’d assumed he would be here but through a very quick examination of the living room he wasn’t there. His boots were by the door though and although it was stupid to feel it but Patsy had a brief, insane urge to pick them up. It was messy. Honestly, she’d never understand what mad twists of fate that had brought Val to Phils door. She’d deserved so much more.

As Patsy glided up the stairs a faint rhythmic noise like a cow being slaughtered met her and she followed it, hypnotised. Her feet ghosting the steps to keep her presence secret. 

At the top of the stairs there was a long, wide landing. It was the picture attached to the wall in front of her that made Patsy stop where she was though. 

Val and Phil on their wedding day. Patsy stared at it, something like an ache forming in her chest. She didn’t spare too much effort looking at Phil who was young and slimmer with longer curly hair in the photograph. She didn’t care about him. It was Val who made her pause. Val who stood beside Phil in her long white wedding dress, her cheeks pinched as she smiled at the camera man, her face years younger than when Patsy had known her. The smile looked glassy or maybe Patsy just couldn’t look at Vals face now and not see the lies. 

She looked small beside her husband. Phil had always made Val small. Beside him Val had never been anything more than a doll made real. With Patsy she’d at least been alive even though when she was alive she’d been vengeful and angry. Patsy still couldn’t decide which one had been better for Val.

Not that Val would need to work it out now. Not like she could anymore.

A loud snore ripped the air and Patsy turned her head towards it like a hunter sighting it’s prey. Still walking quietly Patsy made her way down the landing towards a door left ajar. Warily, Patsy poked her head around the frame to peer inside.

The bedroom was obviously Phil and Vals. There was a large overflowing washing basket close to the door and a dark mahogany style wardrobe taking up almost a third of the room. A matching dresser with a high backed chair stood beside a window that was draped in thick black out curtains. Phil was laying on the bed, his large feet almost poking over the edge as he slept easily and without troubles.

Sleeping?

It was this that irked Patsy the most. She’d come here from a hospital bedside. She’d stepped over two bodies this morning, she’d held newly made orphans in her arms and Phil, the culprit and accessory to it all, slept before her like a baby. Patsy gripped the petrol can so hard she thought the bones in her hand might burst through the skin.

Holding her breath, hoping he would not wake yet, Patsy knelt a little to settle the can onto the thick carpeted floor. 

The bed was cheap metal, powdery black with a railing style head board. Phil slept on top of the covers practically naked. The smell of unwashed bodies and stale whiskey hit Patsy as she crept closer. On the bedside table was an open packet of cigarettes and an empty bottle of whiskey. Phil breathed deeply beside her as she stood above him and to Patsys ears it was a taunt. He breathed while others did not.

Pulling out the first pair of handcuffs Patsy gently clicked one end to the closest railing cringing at the faint noise she couldn’t prevent. Phils arm was slung carelessly above his head and he didn’t seem to notice as she carefully raised it a little higher to attach his wrist the other side of the cuffs although his breathing grew shallower. His snores less vivid. Still, she was halfway there.

Holding her breath Patsy had to lean over him to connect the second pair of cuffs to the railings. It was further away than she thought and it was just as she had stretched out her hand she felt the air change. His body touched hers slightly and she couldn’t tell if it was his heart suddenly beating fast or his. Phil jerked awake, his snores ending terminally with a creaking blort noise as he finally sensed danger.

Working on instinct Patsy reached to her pocket and withdrew the pepper spray just as Phils free left hand collided heavily with the side of her head. Half stunned she unloaded the whole canister into the direction of the man’s eyes and heard a muffled scream as it hit home. Her hands shaking in panic Patsy grabbed the remaining flailing arm as it swung past her field of vision again and straddled his chest hurriedly, forcing it towards the cuffs that slid smoothly around the far expanse of his wrist just in time.

Phil screamed retribution as he tried to see who was attacking him.

Panting, sweating, Patsy was jerked off of Phil as he swore loudly again and bucked beneath her. The heat from his stomach seemed to burn her legs but she’d got him! She’d fucking got him!

Jubilant now, if a little woozy from the head blow, Patsy rolled off the side of the bed and staggered towards the chair where Val must have spent endless mornings applying make-up. It was heavy and she didn’t quite have the strength to lift it so she dragged it noisily around to face the bed while Phil moaned and swore as he blinked pepper from streaming eyes.

Once the chair was situated Patsy stood in front of it watching Phil struggle dispassionately, the sound of his pain didn’t make her feel any happier. Grabbing a pillow Patsy stuffed it unceremoniously in the mans mouth and then kicked him hard in the thigh because she bloody well wanted to. 

Then she went and got the can.

She couldn’t be certain through the mad mists pounding in her ears but she thought he must have heard the popping as she uncorked the can. His arms tugged more spiritedly but still futilely against the cuffs while she walked back towards him; the fumes from the petrol stinging her eyes.

When she poured the petrol over him she did it slowly, watching as the liquid sloshed across his torso. Phil spluttered and tried to move out of the way, his feet pushed against the duvet which twisted and bunched but he couldn’t escape. Patsy banged the bottom of the can to make sure it was truly empty before aiming it at Dyers head.

It bounced off his nose with a satisfying twang and a trickle of brown blood. He yelped and gasped in fear.

Good. 

“Sorry about that,’ Patsy said easily as Phil chewed at the pillow. ‘It’s been a rough few days... Fires, people trying to kill me, you know how it is. Think I'm doing that processing thing Ursula talks about in the team meetings.”  
   
"You!’ Dyer finally spat out the gag as he recognised Patsys voice and squinted towards her. ‘But you're supposed to be dead!"  
   
"I know!’ Patsy said with fake surprise as she took a cigarette from the bedside and tapped it jauntily on the knee of her bloody jeans. ‘I was bloody surprised too Phil but that's life for you; all those nasty little turns you're not expecting. People letting you down at the slightest opportunity.’ Patsy grinned nastily. ‘Honestly, it's almost criminal."  
   
"When I get out of here-" He hissed in a voice that might have been menacing if Patsy had been the sort of person who found half naked men tied up all that scary. She exaggerated a yawn and sat down on the wooden chair, propping her feet up on the end of the bed.  
   
"Doubtless you'll dazzle me with hitherto unsuspected guile and cunning. However,' here Patsy broke off to root inside her pocket for a light. Finding the box she struck a match and watched with satisfaction when Phil twitched, his vision clearly disturbed still, at the flare before lighting her cigarette and taking a deep drag. She chose to extend out out the time it took to wave out the cheery little flame. The sulphurous smell clung to the stuffy air like a promise, 'while I have you here; a captive audience so to speak, you and I are going to have a little chat.’ Patsy lent a casual elbow on the chair back and took another long, leisurely drag of her fag. ‘I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them or, and I want you to understand me explicitly here Phil, I'm going to be rather heavy handed with you."  
   
"I'm unarmed." Phil moaned like this was a fucking gentleman’s boxing match. Patsy sneered.  
   
"Yes, well I'm hardly about to hang around while you get bloody armed am I sarge?' Patsy said saccharine sweet, flexing her shoulder slightly by way of demonstration, 'once bitten and all that."  
   
"You can't do this to me." Phil groaned, the handcuffs clinked against the bed frame and tinkled happily between them.   
   
“Watch me why don’t you.” Patsy said evenly, the glow of her cigarette flared as she sucked and cast a momentary red glow across her eyes.  
   
“Why are you doing this to me?” Dyer asked in a pathetic bleat that set Patsys fist curling.   
   
How could someone be so egotistical?  
   
"Me? Me?' Patsy growled, pulling the cigarette from her lips agitatedly and for a second she let the calm mask slip, the rage spilled out ugly over her face and Phil twitched, the blood draining from his pouchy cheeks as the reality of what sat before him dawned. 'I did nothing to you. I didn't do this to you. I didn't murder your wife. I didn't leave a defenceless child to die in a burning building. I didn't lie and cheat and kill on some sadistic bastards orders. I didn't do this to you but today Philip you will face your crimes. You will face me today."  
   
Their eyes met, Dyer was panting as he struggled to look away. Weak, Patsy thought dispassionately, a weak man the world had been too easy on.

“I don’t-“

“Do you know how long it takes a full grown man to burn alive Phil?’ Patsy went on conversationally. ‘Burn away so that there’s no evidence at all, just ash? About twenty four hours all in all, absolutely ages. I’ve seen it myself. The fats take a long time to get to see because of all the muscles and skin and they burn slowly but when the fire does finally get that far...’ Patsy held her hands apart and then expanded outwards, ‘boom! Of course the humans long dead before then. The skull cracks from the pressure, explodes into tiny pieces. It’s a horrible death is burning. Agonising you could say... But then, you already know about that don’t you Phil.”  
   
"Let me go. Please, let me go and I'll disappear I swear. I won't tell him you're alive. I'll leave." Dyer gabbled frantically, his hands squeezing the air without a hope of holding anything.  
   
"Leave?’ Patsy watched him grimly and then, because she knew it sounded mad at the minute, gave a maniacal laugh as she enjoyed the way Phil started to sweat. ‘Oh no Phil, no more running away. No more lies. We’re going to end this right now."  
   
"I didn't do anything, you've got no proof! Please, let me go."   
   
"Proof?’ Patsy barked witheringly. ‘I'm a bloody angry woman who's covered you in petrol Phil, I'm not the bloody CPS. I don't need fucking proof. I know enough to know you're involved and I'm going to hear it. The whole sordid story or so help me God only I will walk out of this house."  
   
"You wouldn't do it." Phil said with false conviction. The cuffs rattled again as he tried to free himself.   
   
Patsy stared at Phil for a long time. The small paper cigarette rolled between her fingers invitingly as the helpless man squirmed and writhed before her. The petrol she'd thrown made rainbow swirls on his stomach, her sharp eyes picked out the small circle of his belly button where a puddle of the flammable stuff had gathered there. It looked like a target to her.  
   
She could kill him right now... She could stop him from touching the girls again... She could kill him. Maybe he deserved to die? She might even be lucky enough not to get caught... do it whispered the dark internal voice that she wished she didn’t possess.   
   
For a moment she didn’t move as she considered the attractive suggestion. It was tempting. Phil would do it to her, he’d done it to Seppie. It would be justice without the paperwork... but... no, because then she'd be just as bad as he was wouldn't she? She'd be another Abraham, bullying her way through life and she couldn’t be that. She couldn’t ever lose the sense of ethics instilled in her so ardently by Helen and besides that; the children needed her to be a good guy. Fighting fire with fire never solved anything and it was a slippery slope to get onto because where did it end? Where did you find your line again amongst the blurring greyness. That was the thing about doing something terrible, even if you were certain you were doing it for the right reasons, no matter how good you believed yourself to be you could still lose your way. Because once you did something for a good reason then you could also it for a bad one... Countries had fallen because good men had forgotten there were lines one should not cross. She could be better than Dyer and Abraham. She was already better than them. She just had to keep remembering that fact.  
   
"You're right.' Patsy said eventually, leaning back in the chair and surveying Phil with undisguised disgust, 'I won't kill you Phil. I don't want you dead; it's not my bag. I wouldn't want it on my conscience but I'll tell you what I do want... since we're sharing; I want you to go away to a dark prison. I know you know what happens to cops who go to prison so I won't draw you a picture. I want you to suffer and suffer until you can't take all the suffering any more, until the suffering drives you mad, until you become haunted by it all. Death would be too good for you. If I do it then it won't be done in the light will it and that's what men like you always do. It's what always happens; deals in the dark.... Not this time. Is that how this partnership started with you and Abraham, the old boys club?"  
   
"I don't know what you’re talking about. You're mental." Phil whimpered, sweat was actually dripping down his face now, his fat hands still tugging futilely against his bonds. He’d turned almost green when Patsy spoke about prison.  
   
"I'm sure you don't.’ Patsy said with a disbelieving sigh and decided to change tack. ‘Can I tell you something Phil?’ Phil didn’t answer her but Patsy went on anyway. It was her fucking party right now after all. ‘I've been doing all this thinking over the last twenty four hours and there's things that don't make sense. Now,' Patsy went on conversationally, 'you're a bastard, you're bigoted and you're selfish and you're greedy but a killer?' Patsy shook her head theatrically. 'That makes no sense. For all your faults you're well respected, you've been around since the wheel. So, that’s what I’ve been wondering... What on Earth happened to turn good old Phil into a murderer?’ Patsy stared at Phil's flabby, purposefully blank face and gave an encouraging eyebrow raise. ‘Come on, you'll feel so much better when you start spilling your guts. Trust me."  
   
"I didn't do anything." Phil grunted predictably. Patsy had had enough of this line now and slapped a hand on the edge of her seat. It made a pleasing thwack sound. Phil flinched.  
   
"You were seen leaving the scene of the crime. You were seen laughing!’ Patsy hissed with finality and felt the mad shock from the man as he registered her words. His mouth hung open as, just for a moment, the world turned on good old Phil. Patsy had evidence and that was unexpected apparently.  
   
"I- I didn't." Phil stammered but Patsy had him surprised now and wanted him to stay that way. She pushed on.  
   
"Laughing.' Patsy repeated coldly, her hand was shaking and she tried to cover the tremor by stubbing out her cigarette slowly on the powdery white windowsill. The fag was already pretty burned out but the affect was good, Phil twitched and panted as his eye was drawn to the blackened end until the final embers were snuffed out. 'I don't really pretend to understand what goes on in your head Phil. If I'm honest I've got enough demons without borrowing yours but...’ Patsy kept her voice low so he had to really listen to hear her, ‘you laughed. You slit two people's throats and left a third, a baby girl who was vulnerable and terrified, you left them all to burn to death. And you laughed.’ Patsy shook her head slowly as the mental images made her feel sick. ‘I'll never understand that, not until the day I die I think. You laughed, you fucking laughed. I think we both know that’s a cunts trick right there."  
   
"I didn't know the girl was in there." Phil panted suddenly, his piggy eyes flickering between Patsy and the door. Patsy felt her lip curl into a sneer.  
   
"Like you didn't know about Winifred? Like you didn’t know about Val? How much didn't you know Phil? How much did you choose not to know? I came here for answers."  
   
"It wasn't my fault, I didn't have a choice." Phil whined and his chosen nasally tinge twanged a discord against the strings of Patsys brain. Her fist twitched and oh how she wanted to hurt him. How she wished she was as bad as him or Abraham. Things would be so much simpler if she could just put a stop to all the bad people in the world... but there was always more bad people waiting to fill the ranks and she was only one person. She wasn't big enough to fight every Phil that crossed her path. There were too many Phil's.  
   
But she could drag the truth from the shadows couldn't she? She was strong enough for that.  
   
"Answers Phil. The truth. You owe it to Val and the nun and you owe it to that little girl you left to die." Patsy said coolly. There would be no relief from her.   
   
"I didn't. I never... There wasn't a little girl in there, I wouldn't do that." Phil's eyes were filling with fresh tears. Patsy ignored them because she’d seen too many tears today and Phil's had no right to be there.  
   
"Don't try to act like the wounded party here Phil, I'm not in the mood. Answers. When did you get into Abrahams pocket?"  
   
"I didn't."  
   
Patsy lost patience all at once and aimed a hard kick at the man's stomach. With satisfaction she felt the sharp rubber spikes from the melted soles scrape down the flabby curve of his middle. Phil gasped in pain and tried to curl over to protect his large front but the restraints stopped him, pulled him back so he flipped onto his back as he gasped and spluttered.  
   
"When!" Patsy repeated loudly.  
   
"I can't tell you, he'll kill me. The man's insane, you have no idea what he's capable of." Phil snivelled, still trying to bend and catch his breath.  
   
"I think I may have a slight insight thank you." Patsy replied shortly before pausing and then, in a bid to stop herself from beating him black and blue, folded her arms tightly across her chest. Her mind was busy preparing to soak up whatever information Phil was going to tell her.  
   
"No.’ To Patsys surprise a slither of hatred flared in Phils face, his tone was a mixture of grudging respect and disgust, 'you really don't understand how crazy he is. He's sick. A really sick man."  
   
"I know that already." Patsy supplied dryly.  
   
"No. You can't-" Phil argued in an inappropriately condescending tone.  
   
"Believe me I can." Patsy said a little more firmly, her hand was shaking against her chest.  
   
"No. There's no way-" Phil went on sounding hopeless and something inside Patsy snapped. She wanted facts not this drivel.  
   
"Yes I do! I know exactly what he's capable of because he's my father. He's my father okay, I fucking have every idea about what that man can do. Now answer my questions or I'll change my mind and go for plan B which for your information isn't to kill you. It’s to beat you so hard I'll dredge ten shades of shit out of you instead and leave you to the wolves... And trust me that will be a challenge Phil because up 'til now the Bristol stool chart has only ever found seven shades of actual shit."  
   
"He's your-" Phil stuttered, his eyes bugging out and Patsy made a sarcastic kind of half bow.  
   
"Yep, that's my daddy. Now, tell me everything. Starting at the beginning."  
   
They stared at one another. Patsy could practically see the sluggish clogs turning behind his eyes. If he told Patsy the truth then she’d turn him in... At least inside he wouldn’t be as easy a target for Abraham. If he didn’t tell her then she’d beat him and still turn him in...  
   
When he relaxed into the mattress Patsy knew that she had him hooked, his bottom lip wobbled as the sweat clung to the unshaven stubble there. His breathing came out in short stops and starts but their gazes didn't part. This was between them now.  
   
"He found me... About two years ago. One of his associates was in a group I attended." Phil whispered, tears were constantly dripping down from his cheeks like a broken tap.  
   
"Group?" Patsy qualified, her brain lighting up.  
   
"Piss up,' Dyer amended himself with a slight sheepish shrug, 'lads night out in Newcastle. One of the blokes was local and he said he'd show us the sights... So we saw them." He added almost bitterly, his eyes raw.  
   
"And what kinds of sights were they then?" Patsy asked slowly. Dyer smiled rather nastily, his teeth glinted through the white of his lips as he bared them at her.  
   
"What kind do you think? Couple of pubs, then bars. Normal stuff; around three in the morning the bloke got us all a big bag of coke. Said it was thanks for a good night and you know what it's like; you feel like you can take on the world after a few lines. They tricked me."  
   
"And that's what he had on you?’ Patsy asked absentmindedly, her mind racing to connect the dots. ‘A few lines of coke? That's what made you do all of this?"  
   
"A drug charge could ruin my career Mount." Dyer said with wide, sincere eyes... too sincere to be believable.  
   
Patsy frowned down at Dyer.   
   
Think. She needed to consider this; Dyers show of honesty was all well and good but it didn't ring true and besides she'd been a cop for long enough now to know people only answered verbally for 10%, the rest was body language. In interviews you learned to watch people's faces just as much as you listened to the words and Dyer, try as he might, looked like a big fat liar to her.  
   
"No,' Patsy dragged out the syllable into six as she eyed the man's knee thoughtfully, 'no, that's not everything is it? You're keeping something back from me, painful as it is to admit for me I know that you're not that stupid. You're big enough and bent enough that you could have made a drugs allegation go away if it cropped up. If Abraham was blackmailing you then he had to have had something you couldn't wriggle out of so quickly. What was it? What else did you do on that lads night?"  
   
"Nothing. It was just the drugs." Dyer said quickly, the sweat was back again. Patsy narrowed her eyes.  
   
"No it wasn't. It can’t have been that... Something you were ashamed of? Something that really scared you. What was it? A fight that went wrong, did you hit the wrong person?"  
   
"It was just the drugs." Dyer repeated manically like he thought repetition might convince her.  
   
It didn’t. The inner policeman all cops develop as a kind of self defence in their heads sat up in the always rainy twilight of her heart and sniffed the air.  
   
"Did you fuck someone you shouldn't of? Did you finally poke the wrong tiger. Ahh,' Patsy breathed a victorious breath as Phils eyes gave him away, they turned back to the door that was as unreachable as any of his victims with new urgency and Patsys brain raced, 'and now we're on the right path aren’t we... Okay, who was she?"  
   
"A prostitute. That's all.' Phil said cagily but his voice shook more and the sweat only seemed to increase.   
   
Liar.   
   
'Just some slag making noises at the wrong time. I was entrapped; the bloke said he knew the madam and could get us freebies."  
   
"Expensive freebie then, two years servitude from one mistake.’ Patsy observed dryly. ‘So what’s the deal then? Was it one of the trafficked girls? Was she being paid to say you raped her, is that it?"  
   
"No.' Phils legs were trembling and his hands tightened shut harmlessly as though he longed to grip the unknown woman by her neck. 'No. It was worse than that; they got me good and proper Mount, they tricked me."  
   
"Tricked you? How did they trick you Phil?"  Patsy asked soothingly, willing him to think he was safe talking to her.  
   
"They said she was legal. You know, over the age...’ Dyer spoke in a tortured moan, his eyes squeezing closed. ‘They took pictures, I didn't realise." He whispered it almost too quietly to hear.   
   
"Over the age...' Patsy breathed slowly, her lips felt suddenly too dry, the rooms air too stale. 'She was a minor? Fifteen?'   
   
Slowly, grey faced, Dyer shook his head. No.   
   
'Younger than fifteen? Fourteen?' Patsy asked in horrified fascination. It was like a car crash you could see looming up in the distance but couldn’t prevent.  
   
Closing his eyes tighter as though to block out the truth Dyer merely shook his head again.   
   
'Thirteen?' Patsy asked, feeling her stomach turn queasily now.   
   
Dyer shook his head again.   
   
'Twelve?’ Patsys stomach clenched sickly as Dyer nodded and she couldn’t prevent her fingers twitching nervously. ‘Fucking hell Phil!"   
   
Phil was still crying, fat, self serving tears were still dribbling down his cheeks miserably in a great running tide of despair.  
   
"I swear I didn't know.' He was almost pleading as he gasped at Patsy hoarsely, 'she didn't... There was no way I could tell, she looked like any other fucking whore. She had hair on her and everything. I mean, she was small but I thought they just weren’t feeding her or something... It wasn’t my fault, the lying bitch was a professional, she knew exactly the right things to do to start me off so it’s not like I was the first one she must have had. I didn’t do it first to her, those sort of girls like it anyway and everyone else did her too. It wasn’t just me.’  
   
Patsy stared at him at a complete loss for a response. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? And Phil was still haemorrhaging his twisted excuses.   
   
‘I was off my head and I just went with the crowd. It wasn’t my fault!... The pictures turned up the next week through the letter box. Val nearly opened it for Christ sake... It looked really bad, the angles they took them from made it look like I was hurting her or something. I panicked. The week after that I started getting orders through the post." Phil finished limply, his mouth still opening spasmodically. Patsy saw ‘wasn’t my fault’ frame in his lips a few times and thought of Fern. Fifteen. Still her kid. Still a child.  
   
"You raped a child." Patsy said hollowly.  
   
"I fucked a whore.’ Phil corrected defensively. ‘There was nothing about that girl that told me she was a kid, she was a professional, she had all the moves. How was I supposed to know?"  
   
"How about if you'd used your fucking eyes you bastard. Twelve years old! Jesus Phil!"  
   
"They tricked me." Phil repeated robotically.  
   
"They didn't force you though, you made your choice. The whole way through you've made your choice." Patsy answered angrily.   
   
"I would have lost everything’ Phil snarled stuck in a limbo of defending the indefensible. ‘Val would have left me if she knew, you know how she was about kids! She couldn't have them could she? I'd have done time for it if it got out. You know what they do inside to cops, what do you think they'd do to me if they knew I was a kiddie fiddler too? They'd kill me."  
   
"That's not my problem." Patsy replied smartly. He’d deserve it.  
   
"Please, I'll do anything.' Anything... And now he was begging her and she hated him. She hated him. She hated him. 'Anything, I'll tell you everything you want to know if you agree to let me run. I can't go to prison. You're still a cop, we don't throw each other down the hill do we Mount? Mount? All I'm asking for is a bit of mercy, they tricked me, they forced me. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."  
   
"Mercy? You want my mercy?' Patsy stared at Dyer, hating every inch of him. Twelve years old? Three years younger than Fern and he wanted her mercy... Patsy made a snap decision, 'fine. After you give me what I want I'll set you free. It's Abraham I'm after."  
   
"You promise?" Phil gasped in relief.  
   
"I'm waiting Phil, get on with it." Patsy didn’t smile and Phil gulped.  
   
"What do you want to know?"  
   
"Everything, all of it. Let's start with Abraham shall we. When did you first meet him, he's been locked away for a long time. How does he manage his organisation through bars?"  
   
"He was the kingpin in some prison near London.’ Phil said immediately, keen to be as helpful as possible now he thought he was free. ‘Nastiest bastard in there; didn't have any contacts outside but he was smarter than most. He met the Albanians inside and he set himself up as the brains of the outfit."  
   
"And he got out? How long ago?" Timelines. When had the addicts started OD'ing? Only in the last few months she was sure of it.  
   
"About six months or so I think. It's not like he's chewing my ears off about his inner circle, this is just what I've heard around the place from the grunts but he's been giving me orders personally for about three months. He got out on a technicality or something; he had this pen pusher in London working his case for ages."  
   
"Right...' the hardest part right now was for Patsy to try and discern which string to catch first. The flood of answers was coming, this was nothing but the first trickles, 'orders? What kind of orders were you getting?"  
   
"Nothing too bad at the start,’ Phil mumbled reluctantly, ‘just stuff the gang didn't want being drawn to anyone high ups attention. Bit of paperwork going missing, the odd perp sent on their way if some plod got too big for their boots. Nothing sinister or anything."  
   
"Perverting the course of justice and fraud aren't exactly nothing Phil.’ Patsy recalled all those nights Val had been with her and how she had never once considered what Phil might have been up to. She’d avoided thinking about him. Patsy sighed thinking about Val. ‘You could have told someone. We could have stopped this before they moved the furniture in."  
   
"I would have lost everything Mount. Even if I hadn't done time for some magical reason I'd still have lost Val. You think I could have shown my face around the office with that charge hanging over my head? No, I'd have been finished."  
   
"And now you've killed people and your wife is dead the results are the same Phil.’ Patsy spat and then... Because she had to know for sure. ‘Did Val know about any of this? Did you tell her, is that why they killed her?"  
   
"That was your fault! Not mine." Phil said angrily, the fat in his arms bunched around muscles aggressively.  
   
"How? What did I do that killed her, I didn't collude with the criminals Phil." Patsy hated him. Val should have left him years ago; she’d deserved so much better.  
   
"You made her different, she wasn't my Val anymore.’ Phil hissed with bitterness. ‘She was suspicious all the time, kept asking me what I was doing like I owed her a fucking explanation; I was living in a nightmare because of you.” Phils indignant complaints fell into the air and seemed to fry in the heat from Patsys gaze.  
   
“If Val was questioning you then it shows she was smarter than everyone else. I just wish she’d told me about it.” Why hadn’t Val told her? There had been so many opportunities to tell Patsy... But, no, Val hadn’t wanted Patsy for her conversation Patsy reminded herself. The sting of the truth didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. As much as it had before.  
   
“If she hadn't struggled so much I might have been able to protect her somehow.’ Phil whined. ‘She wouldn't have started poking her nose where it didn't belong. The days before she died she was so... angry about everything, I thought she must have found out what was going on. She kept asking me where I was going; I couldn't breathe. You caused her to get in the way."  
   
"Obviously Val realised what it was she was married to Phil. I'm not taking the blame for that. If you were a better man she wouldn't have come near me in the first place." Patsys lips felt numb, the blood was pounding in her ears.  
   
"She followed me though didn't she.' Phil snapped, righteous anger settling over his features indecently. 'She stole my ID and turned up at that Micks flat asking stuff she shouldn't have. They didn't tell her anything but she still came home and confronted me; shouting the odds and saying she had friends too and that she was going to tell on me."   
   
He sounded like a scolded school boy raging at his teacher.   
   
"So she'd started making connections...’ Patsy had to speak slowly, her jaw was tensing. ‘And what did you do about that Phil? Who did you tell?"  
   
"I didn't want them to hurt her I swear!' Again with the tears, it was like he thought he could soften Patsy if he did it enough, but they changed nothing. 'I thought they'd just frighten her a bit, you know, maybe give her a few slaps. I didn't want them to kill her but I didn't know she was fucking you, did I? Abrahams got a right hard on over you Mount. He wants to kill everyone linked to you, wants to hunt you down like you’re some dog and... he killed her. If she'd just been a good wife then she wouldn't have died. It's your fault."  
   
"You told them about her!’ Patsys arms came unstuck as she tugged at her hair in frustration. ‘Come on Phil, you're not that stupid, you sent her to them didn't you? They fucking murdered her on your orders."  
   
"No!’ Phils skin was greenish, his face shocked. ‘I wouldn't ever have wanted her to die. I just wanted her to behave properly again, I thought if they scared her a bit, maybe reminded her what would happen if she tried her luck that she'd fall back into line."  
   
"They raped her Phil.’ Vals neck, the necklace of bruises around her throat flashed across Patsys eyes. ‘She struggled to the end because you let them. You signed her death warrant you piece of shit."   
   
"I loved her!’ Phil sniffled but he might as well have been talking about his dead goldfish for all the sincerity Patsy gleaned. ‘I was just angry, I found her in the gutter and she forgot how much she owed me, that’s all I swear it. I wanted to remind her how good I was to her; I never meant for her to get killed."  
   
Patsy slumped back in the chair, her body felt suddenly airless... This was just so fucked up and she was so, so tired.   
   
“You’re a piece of shit Phil.” Patsy said distantly because sometimes that was all you could say, she felt so damn exhausted. This day seemed to have gone on forever...  
   
“You promised me you’d let me go if I told you.” Dyer accused desperately and Patsy looked over to him. The muscles in her neck didn’t want her to do it. She hated him.  
   
“That’s right, I did.’ Patsy said, hating herself, ‘but you haven’t told me everything yet... Winifred. Tell me about the nun.”  
   
“Oh’ Dyer rolled his eyes like she was wasting his time somehow, ‘who cares about one fucking nun?”  
   
“I care!’ Patsy forgot she was sitting down as she forced her feet harder into the floor, half standing, she waved an angry hand across the air. ‘I care! Her sisters care! Everyone who dies has someone and she had people. She was a person. Val was a person. Those kids, all those people on drugs! They were all people with stories they don’t get to tell people now because you were a coward! Nobody deserved any of this and I want to fucking know Phil so get on with it already!” The blood was pounding in her temple. Her bad hand stung where she’d jerked it in anger but she regretted nothing.   
   
Phil had stopped crying. His face was an ugly thing Patsy longed to squash away.  
   
“It wasn’t my-“ He began feebly but Patsy cut him off.  
   
“If you say that again I’m setting you on fire.” Patsy glowered down at him and he wilted under her anger.  
   
“Abraham’s goons were pushing their new stuff. They’re moving their cargo in on the water and shipping it across the coast. A few bad eyes would give the game away and you know a jonesing junkie will try anything to get a fix, even blackmail, so they’ve been piling it in as freebies. Cleaning out the town; practically community service if you think about it. Keeps the air clean or something; the people they sell are the real money so a few dead junkies are drops in the ocean.”  
   
Patsy gave an involuntary growl. She saw the long corridor of fridges in Chummys morgue; full of wasted potential. Star girl had been a sweet girl really; troubled and high more than she wasn’t but she was kind. She’d kept rats like pets and cried when they died.   
   
People like Dyer never seemed to see those people as real people but Patsy did. She always had.   
   
She could have been one of them if it wasn’t for Helen.  
   
“And Winifred? How did she figure in all of this? She wasn’t a junkie.” Patsy had to keep going now she was riding the train.   
   
“Ahh, bloody do-gooder.’ Dyer mumbled with a hint of his old scorn until he caught Patsys warning expression and sighed. ‘She was on a course at the university wasn’t she? Couple of junkies used to beg outside of it. She got friendly with one of them God knows why. If the stupid bitch had any sense she’d have kept well away from it all; nice thing like that messing with scum. Don’t know what she was thinking... Anyway, she tried to help the druggie but...’ he shrugged delicately, ‘you know junkies. The girl died like she was always going to but not before telling the nun what she knew. Then the idiot starting poking round all of the holes in Poplar. The gang wasn’t too concerned at first I don’t think; just told me to keep an ear out for anything official at work coming through about them but then she went and did it for herself. Dunno how she managed it but she found out about Sheik being a dealer. She turned up at his flat and started asking questions. Questions she shouldn’t have been asking. She was making notes, had pictures. Apparently she’d been up to the site and she’d worked out it wasn’t just drugs.  
   
The gangs pretty relaxed about drugs because who cares about small time dealers but they don’t like people knowing about the other stuff. Think they were worried she’d go to the press rather than the cops so they told me to seek her out.”  
   
“Seek her out?” Patsy qualified, her brain seemed to be overheating or maybe it was the burns from earlier finally kicking in.  
   
“Befriend her then.’ Dyer rephrased. ‘I just had to find out what she knew; if it was nothing we could just sideline her. Discredit her somehow.”  
   
“But it wasn’t nothing?” Patsy filled in the blanks.  
   
“Nah, she had times and dates of shipments. Pictures. She had it all worked out in this pathetic diary thing. Proper professional job actually. CPS would have gone wild... I had to tell them. If I hadn’t they’d have killed us both.”  
   
“How did she die?”  
   
“I...’ Phil swallowed hard. ‘She trusted me, she thought she was going to be in a big media scoop or something. I told her to meet me at the site to make the big arrest.’ He sniffed, ‘these stupid civvies; like that sort of thing would be taken on by one man. Honestly, stupid bitch just lapped it up thinking she was some hero.”  
   
“And then?” Patsy queried sourly.  
   
“I didn’t do it.’ Dyer said hotly, his cheeks red. ‘I was just the bait. She was waiting for me and she was pretty gullible anyway. I just started walking towards her really slowly... One of Abraham’s lot clubbed her over the head and that was it... There was so much blood. Had to throw out my good clothes.”  
   
“Oh, how inconvenient for you.” Patsy snarked before she could stop herself. Dyer winced but went on as though there had been no interruptions.   
   
“Abraham said we should burn off her finger prints, dump the body on the beach. I was supposed to go along in the morning after Val had seen me and call it in as a suicide, no one was meant to get interested but...”  
   
“But Timothy Turner found the body before you did.” Patsy saw the beach again through Dyers eyes. His frustration towards Tim was finally explained... And Dyer had been the one to send Patsy off with the boy hadn't he.  
   
“You went to Nonnatus on your own... You frightened the old nun. You stole Trixies pregnancy test and planted it? Did Monica Joan see you?” How clear the picture was now. The empty parts of the puzzle were filling fast and, after all, it was the simpler details that pissed her off the most.  
   
“Mad old bat. Since I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t her with the kid blabbing I had to go to plan B.”  
   
“You were going to frame it as she was pregnant.” Patsy wasn’t asking now. The dots were connected up. The truth trailing out crooked and unsavoury.   
   
“You said you’d let me go.” Dyer prompted hopefully. Patsy blinked slowly, her brain needing the final piece.  
   
“Abraham... Where’s Abraham now? What’s he doing?”  
   
“How should I know?’ Dyer asked angrily, ‘he doesn’t send me his fucking calendar.”  
   
“Give me your best guess then.” Patsy demanded impatiently.  
   
But she already knew... This was always going to end in one place wasn’t it?  
   
“He’s got a big plot of land out in the country. I’ve only been a few times. The old cult site, it’s near the coast so they use it as their base. That’s where he’d probably be if someone was looking for him... Now you promised me.” Phil was looking expectant but Patsy ignored him.  
   
She got to her feet wearily, the air was weaving in front of her as exhaustion clung to her bones like a second skin but she had to keep going. Just a little bit more.  
   
“What sort of weapons are in that place, the Albanians are stationed in there too?” Patsy asked, her sluggish mind weaving a picture.  
   
“Guns mostly. Lots of drugs, they have a rota for the slaves, they train the prossies up in there too. It’s a fortress, you won’t get in there on your own Mount.”  
   
Patsy nodded, her head hurt.  
   
“Yeah.’ She agreed grimly, ‘but something tells me I won’t need to knock on the door. He’s looking for me?”  
   
“Oh yeah,’ Dyer was all eagerness and Patsy hated him. She hated him. ‘He knows everything about you; those kids, your weird thing with your little teacher friend- What? Did you think he wouldn’t find out?” Dyer cut off looking confused as Patsy gave an involuntary jerk of her neck at his casual statement.  
   
Ice was spreading through Patsys veins as two possibilities flashed up...  
   
“What teacher friend?” She asked hollowly, her stomach was clenching and even though she hadn’t eaten in what felt like days it still threatened mass evacuation at even light provocation.  
   
“Your teacher friends, both of them, did you really think he wouldn’t find out?’ Dyer made the tiniest of smirks before continuing. ‘Although surely you already know that he’s got the old lady. Took her last week in her house. Didn’t you know? That’s where he thought you’d been, out looking for her on the quiet, he's been going spare trying to work out where you'd run off to. He thought you'd legged it so he did Sheik over to drag you out into the open.” Dyer was frowning as though annoyed Patsy hadn’t played the game the way they’d expected.   
   
The room was spinning. Helen. Dear God when would it end?

“Where did he take her? When? Why?” Patsy asked it like a child, forgetting for a moment that she was the one in control here. Funny; she didn’t feel like she was in control. She hadn’t been in control in what felt like forever. Dyers brows creased.

“How should I know, I wasn’t there when he got her.” Dyer said it like it didn’t matter. What was one old woman to him.

“But you know! You fucking know so where is she!” Patsy fought the urge to hit him again and maybe he sense it because he sat up a little straighter.

“The same place he takes everyone! I don’t know! I don’t know!” Phil was shaking, finally afraid.

“Why don’t you know?’ Patsy wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. This day needed to end already. ‘Why did he take her? Why mess with Helen, she’s not done anything to anyone!”

“I don’t know okay, I don’t know. Someone said he was making this big plan for when he gets you. Big finale or something but I don’t know. If I were you Mount I’d run with me, you’re a dead man walking here.” Dyers spit had caught on his chin. He looked feral as Patsy stared at him. An animal it would be kinder to put down.

Think. Think. Think.  
   
Slowly, mechanically, Patsy reached into her pocket and pulled out Delias phone. The recorder was still taping their conversation. It should be enough... For others anyway. With a forceful click the file was saved. Patsy weighed the slim phone in her palm and then pocketed it with finality. Dyer fidgeted expectantly on the bed as Patsy turned to him.  
   
“You-“ he began in his convivial whine but Patsy raised her hand for silence and got it. Immediately.  
   
“Phil?” She said in a deadly voice.   
   
“You promised you’d let me go.” Phil squeaked like a loose wheel in a great machine. There was an edge to his voice now. He wasn’t quite certain of what Patsy was going to do.  
   
Neither was she though.  
   
Patsy hovered between right and wrong for a moment and then gave in to what she needed in this moment. Her boot kicked out heavily towards Phils face and clipped his jaw. With a skeletal crunch his head snapped back, blood seeped down from a cut lip but she hadn't killed him. She hadn't killed him even though it felt like she'd die herself by not doing so.  
   
"I lied." Patsy supplied dryly to Phils unconscious form.  
   
\--

The light in the hallway was almost blinding after the near darkness of Phils bedroom. Patsy made sure she was out of sight from the slightly open door and pressed her burning face against the cool expanse of wall. She felt like she was going to fall over but whether her body was prepared to go another mile was moot now. Spirit was going to have to get of its sun lounger and make an impromptu visit because there was work to do.

Right, think, she had to think right now.

First; go to Abraham and end this. No! That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how this sort of thing went was it? Okay, okay, she needed to think. Evidence, that was the thing.

First; send the evidence and then she’d go and find Helen.

Delias phone was just a small thing in her hand. Patsy pulled up her emails and typed in Ursulas address on autopilot. But would she see it in time? Patsy agonised as her thumb hovered over the send button. It was Sunday evening. Ursula might be a workaholic but even she took the odd day off. Patsy could hardly call the station just in case it tipped the wrong person off but she needed someone, anyone to get her message to the right people. In a push of hopelessness Patsy flicked through Delias contact list looking for inspiration.

She could call Trixie but she didn’t know if Trixie would be drinking. She needed someone reliable, dependable.

Her answer came much more easier than any others had done that day. Her thumb stopped on the P’s... Well, surely she’d be willing to help. Patsy attached the second address and sent the audio file.

A confession under duress might not get anyone what they wanted when it came to Dyer but it was still a confession. Ursula was smart, she’d surely read the truth of it and send in reinforcements wouldn’t she? 

And then there was the matter of her other recipient.

Patsy was calling Phyllis before she’d decided what she was going to say. With legs that felt like they were made of rubber she edged downstairs while the dial tone rang. There was a clock in the hallway... four? Phyllis would pick up surely.

“Ms Crane speaking, how may I help.” Phyllis official telephone voice rang through the earpiece and Patsy almost fell to her knees in relief.

Never in her life had she been so happy to hear a woman’s voice on the other end of a phone.

“Phyllis.” Patsy sighed. There was a pause of static as Phyllis assessed the lack of welsh accent calling from Delias number.

“May I help you?” Phyllis asked crisply, Patsy pictured lips pursing and a mile long stare. Perfect.

“Phyllis it’s constable Mount, Helens daughter-“

“May I firstly confirm that nothing ill has befallen my young colleague to prompt this call.” Phyllis interrupted sharply and Patsy faltered, confused.

“What?’ And then the penny dropped. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. Delias fine... I think.’ She needed to get back to the hospital, needed to find Helen, needed to speak to Ursula, needed to stop Abraham once and for all. So many needs pulling her in so many directions. ‘It’s you I wanted Phyllis. I need your help.”

Patsy expected the woman to ask questions at such a random request but Phyllis seemed to read the urgency in her voice.

“Of course, proceed.” Was all her answer. Patsy almost started crying again.

“It’s Helen, someone’s taken Helen.” Patsy spat out the story in quick succession her tongue tripping over the harder words as her brain circled on one thing; they had Helen. Phyllis didn’t interrupt although a general rustling suggested car keys and hat pins were being applied with precision to the northerners person.

“And so you wish me to parle this information to your superior?” Phyllis qualified efficiently when Patsy had finished.

Patsy couldn’t help nodding even though Phyllis couldn’t see; there was something about the woman’s voice. She could lead armies with that voice.

“That’s right, only speak to Ursula. I don’t know who else can be trusted but I’m pretty sure she can. Phyllis; this is a big ask, you might be in danger.” If Patsy survived this she was going to personally lock Helen and Phyllis in a cupboard until they sorted their shit out. Phyllis was a catch.

“I understand constable but I assure you I shall be forewarned.’ There was a clunk from Phyllis’s side of the phone. ‘I have my nunchucks.”

Patsy blinked, certain she’d misheard. Had she finally given in to a concussion?

“Err, what?” 

“Nunchucks constable, I am quite proficient in the ancient art of ‘prodding arse’ as we said at home and shall be sure to be on my guard should anyone attempt to attack me.” Phyllis seemed quite serenely confident, Patsy swayed dangerously where she stood.

So tired.

“Look, Phyllis, when you say nunchucks.” Patsy felt as though she was dreaming somehow. Maybe she’d wake up in a minute and none of this would be real.

“I mean two heavy pieces of wood connected by a chain. Never fear lass, I have been taking classes and feel confident enough to suggest I could circumcise a fly at two hundred yards.” Phyllis did not appear to be joking. Patsy swallowed and made a mental note to try and stay in her good books.

“Oh... Well, that’s... That’s good then.” She said weakly. There was a rustling noise from the other end of the phone.

“I shall proceed immediately lass, you should get back to the hospital.”

“But... Phyllis, what if Helen-“ Patsy was eleven again kneeling beside Elizabeth. She wanted someone to take this responsibility from her, the crushing guilt from her own contamination. She had always been marked, always a dangerous acquaintance to have but Helen.... Helen was sacred fucking ground.

“Don’t you worry,’ Phyllis was soothing now, a break from the prim facade. ‘she’s a tough bird, always has been... And I will ensure the proper authorities find her.” Phyllis brooked no argument and Patsy decided to let it go. Too tired to ask for any more reassurance. It wouldn’t have changed how she felt anyway.

With the call ended and a weak spray of golden sunshine curling along the floor Patsy staggered towards the window desperately trying to work out what to do next.

Dyer had said Abraham was looking for her... So coming here had probably been a bad move then... The red sports car suddenly felt like an especially stupid move but at least she’d had the good sense to park a way away from here. No one had seen her walk in had they.

Or had they?

As she squinted through the window at the front gate something prodded at her subconscious. Something was wrong but... What? She frowned as she tried to work out what it was.

The patch of horizon looked empty save the hedgerows shadow which lent sentry on either side of the gate. The shadows? Patsy stepped a little closer to try and see better. The shadows were wrong. There shouldn’t be any at this time of day and the ones out there weren’t equal though the hedges were so... Two people stood hidden behind the hedge then. Two big people although it was hard to tell if you weren’t concentrating.

Patsy concentrated.

Swallowing harshly, her throat dry, her lips aching, Patsy felt the future looming horribly real in front of her again. Her bad hand hung at her side and she knew she wouldn’t be able to use it as she considered her options. She could run out to the garden perhaps but only rookies wouldn’t put men on all exits. She could sit here and wait for someone to investigate, maybe pick her pursuers off one by one when they grew bored of waiting but that sort of thing would most likely get her killed.

Dyer said they had guns.

Abraham wanted a big finale did he? So that meant be wouldn’t allow them to kill her surely?

A tremor of fear strut its way along her spine but she ignored it. Fear didn’t help and it wouldn’t stop fists. She was too tired for a fight right now; any hand to hand nonsense would result in nothing but more pain. 

Her brain would need to be the hero in this. A shame then that it seemed to have popped out for lunch. 

With as much speed as she could muster Patsy walked back along through the lounge to the kitchen. Weapon. Find a weapon. Anything. Patsy tugged at kitchen drawers, rifling hurriedly through cutlery; finding only spoons? Why the hell were there so many spoons. Ten thousand spoons and she all she needed was a knife.

Patsy pulled out the drawer in frustration and let it fall onto the floor with a tinny shatter, cutlery spilling out everywhere like a stainless steel tide as her imagination painted hulking men shapes creeping towards the house. Was that noise the door opening?

There was a butchers block with a ton of knives poking out the top of it in a sharp line wedged on the counter top. Steak knives were there too on a lower line, the handles glinting in promise.

They’d take any weapons from her once they’d taken her but... Not if they thought they’d already taken everything from her in the initial struggle. Distraction... That might work. 

She might not be able to get away now but she could plan for an escape. 

With a burst of effort Patsy dragged the block onto the floor and crouched down. First; she pulled off her right boot. She was wearing thick socks but the spikes from the steak knives would slice her feet to bits when she walked. Dragging down the kitchen towel manically she pulled a knife free and wrapped it in paper leaving just the tip exposed but the teeth safely sheathed. 

Then, gritting her teeth as she flexed her bad hand, she jammed it close to the toe of her shoe from the inside, she pushed until the leather creaked and tore into a sharp point. Looking down a tiny speck of knife pricked out the toe of her boot. Unless you knew to look for it you might not notice. Patsy made sure the knife lay flat across the sole of the shoe and then put her foot back in the boot and tied up the laces as tightly as possible.

The second knife she tucked flat against the waistband of her jeans, rolling the stiff fabric over it and pulling the jeans up. She jostled herself for a moment to check that it wouldn’t fall down and found to her satisfaction that it didn’t.

She considered the other knives for a moment, sweat trickling down her neck and stinging the burns on her neck, but couldn’t think of any more obvious hiding places. Her nerves fizzling she upturned the block and let the knives spill out on the floor messily. She doubted her attackers would be smart enough to count the pile to see how many knives were missing. There was a very large carving knife on the top the of pile now. Patsy reached for it. It fit into her good hand well but it wasn’t her stronger side. A good kick and she’d let it go.

This next bit was really going to hurt.

Getting back to her feet Patsy looked around the room but nothing else sprung to mind. For a second a mad urge to just run really hard struck her, if she flew past them she might lose pursuers on the soft give of the beach if she could get that far... but she was tired. She wasn’t in the right condition for running. Her hips ached, her hand was useless. Her leg didn’t seem to belong to her.

No. The only way through was to let them take her and, after all, they had Helen...

At least the girls were safe. They had to be.

Clutching the knife in her good hand she limped towards the front door. Just before she reached it she thought of Delias mobile in her pocket. It might help her; slowly, using her bad hand so as to keep the good one holding the weapon Patsy dialled 999 and slid the phone back into her pocket. 

Then she walked outside.

The sun warmed her face like a gentle touch. Patsy had to screw her eyes up to see after the gloom of Dyers home. There didn’t seem to be anyone out there but that didn’t mean anything. She had good eyes and good instincts. She knew the monsters were waiting for her because they always had been.

The sun was so warm on her skin as she stepped further out, her body seemed to be soaking up the last of the rays like it knew it might not feel it’s touch again. Her senses felt on some kind of overdrive. The smell of grass wafted over the front garden from far away. The sea was a gentle drum in the distance. Everything was so peaceful here. 

A nice place to rest.

Patsy took a step. Then another. One. Two. Three.

The gate swung open with a groan from a bump of her fist. Patsy took another deep breath, expanding her lungs to their greatest capacity and stepped out onto the street.

She didn’t have time to swing the knife. 

Something smashed into the back of her head as she turned. She had half a second to make out a blond gleam of hair and then she was falling. Falling into darkness.

She didn’t even feel the pavement as it collided with the side of her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun. Cliffhanger, I loves ‘em
> 
> Okay bottles properly fizzy as hell now. Told you she should have stayed with Delia, Patsy is properly going to go through the wringer now that old Abes got her. We’re going mad dark now. 
> 
> So I usually write that I’m unhappy with chapters and I realise this one isn’t very light (like at all) I had a little freak out writing it and more than a few - I should just not write this moments but out of all of the chapters in this fic this was hardest to write but the one I feel happiest about producing. Weird right, I know. So yeah, for once, totally not disappointed in myself. Progress people.
> 
> How about learning the whys though? Did it tally up with anyone’s theories. I realise everyone’s got wildly different ones at this point.
> 
> Anyhoo comment foo’
> 
> SB


	28. Chapter 28 (trigger warning! It’s really dark, Patsy gets tortured)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A devil in a midnight mass  
> Killed the boy inside the man  
> The holy water in his hands  
> Can never wash away his sins
> 
> Billy Talent- Devil in a midnight mass
> 
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> !!!!!!!!!!  
> AN: this is dark. This is really brutal at times and I’m begging you to not read if it’s going to upset you. Patsy is going to be tortured and it’s awful. You can skip this chapter and go to the next one when it’s posted.
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> Okay. Carry on at your own risk.

When Patsy awoke some indeterminate time after her assisted fall she awoke to pain and sheer bloody fury. She was really getting tired of people beating her up now.

Whoever had taken her had not decided to hang around by the feel of it. One of her eyes was puffy and swollen. The back of her head throbbed where they’d smacked it hard although that didn’t seem to be her biggest issue right now.

Right now the world was a swirl of grey and black. But it was wrong. All of it looked wrong.

Why?

It took a few confused moments through a developing concussion to understand why the world appeared so strange but she clicked on when the sound of a chain creaking fizzed into her brain. Hanging. Someone had hung her upside down by her ankles from a chain in the ceiling. She was stuck turning slowly round as the chain curved and then reverted the other way. Her hands were tied somehow behind her back.

Patsy tried to stare around her, tried to work out what the hell had happened. She had been outside Phils and then... Bang.

And now she was here. In this room and the room was... It was a bad room. She knew it the same way spiders know that an earthquake is imminent. Small and square with a high ceiling and walls comprised of damp red brick that coupled with the stale tasting air and general clamouring atmosphere prodded the mind to conjure up dark holes. There was a shadowy desk piled high with large indistinct shapes in one corner. Strange lumpy objects hung beside her on similar chains. They weren’t swaying.

It was cold in here but not cold enough for Patsys heart. She felt sweat break out and drip from her forehead.

There was a large concrete floor that must have been hastily laid by unskilled workers. The surface was cracked and stained. Some of the stains did not look old. Some of them might not be blood Patsy told herself queasily as she swung where she was. The smell of the space was offensively ripe; sweet and sickly.

The source was quickly identified.

Bodies. The things around her were not sacks, they were bodies. Not alive. Very dead people. Patsy stared at the woman closest; her hair was matted over a swelling gash scored into her forehead. Looked like she'd been shot, her mouth was hanging open lewdly where the muscles had atrophied in her final unheard scream. There was maggots eating through the soft tissue of her tongue. Flies. There were flies everywhere. The whole place stank and Patsy had to get out. She had to get out.

Panic made her shake and flex uselessly. Her fingernails bit into her own hands as she tried desperately to free them. She couldn't breathe, The room was too big. Everything was too big. She knew she was hyperventilating but couldn't control herself. She had to get out. She had to get away.

Someone coughed and Patsy tried to see who it was. Who else was trapped in this hell hole.

“Oh good. You’re awake.” Came a numb female voice Patsy recognised though it shocked her to hear it here.

"Jess?’ Patsy squinted at the shape ahead of her. It looked like Jessica. The chain above Patsy groaned as she forced her body to twist to keep Jessie in eye range. ‘Jess, what are you doing here?"  
   
Jessica was sat behind the desk, half hidden by the mound of items there, her hands clasped together as though in prayer, her eyes closed shut. But it was definitely her. She seemed to take a long time to reply, her mouth barely moving when she did so that Patsy had to crane her neck to pick it up.  
   
"Waiting." Was all her reply. Somewhere a foot tapped away beneath the desk. Patsy tried to hold in a snarl of triumph. She wasn’t alone and Jessie wasn’t bound up. They could escape.   
   
"Jess,’ Patsy whispered urgently, hoping that no one was near the door. ‘The police are on their way here right now. Delia could be in danger, we need to get out here, you need to help me. Can you get up?" The desk didn’t look bolted down. Maybe Jessie could drag it.   
   
The knife... Patsy opened her mouth, about to tell the woman about the knife in her boot but stopped. Jessie had just looked towards her and her expression was strange. Wrong. There was no fear there.   
   
"Help you?' Jessie blinked in surprise for a moment looking back down at the knot of her hands on the desk top like they were fascinating to her.  
   
"Come on,’ Patsy said through the rising gut instinct, ‘we’ve got to move quickly. Let me down, there must be a button or something, help me. We’ve got to get out of here. This isn’t safe."  
   
"It won’t do you any good,' Jessie said tonelessly, releasing her hands to tap her fingertips on the table in a pensive drum, 'the police won't get this far. It's hopeless."  
   
"It's not hopeless, Jess, what do you mean they won't get this far? Why won't they get here?’ Patsy asked it cautiously as she continued turning in her endless orbit on the spot. Again and again Jessie appeared and disappeared until Patsys eyes began to shut in protest. The constant whirling barrage of sight left Patsy fighting nausea as she tried to concentrate on the here and now alone. Jessie still wasn't responding, still focused on her hands. 'Jessica?"  
   
"They won't be able to get this far because...' Jessie swallowed convulsively a slow smile growing in the corners of her moth while her hands gripped together harder. When she finally looked up at Patsy it was with a cold brand of victory. 'God will not allow them too. We are protected here by far greater laws than yours officer Mount.”  
   
Patsy stared. Oh dear...  
   
Jessies face flew past. Then the door. Then Jessie. Then the door.  
   
"Right.' Patsy said slowly, after a long pause, trying to think through the confused denial suddenly settling over her, 'this is... This is a badly timed joked isn't it? You can't mean that." She couldn't. Jessie was an educated woman, this kind of sick convoluted thinking didn't belong with her, no matter how much Patsy disliked Jessie the woman wasn't an idiot. Intelligent women did not make such stupid statements.  
   
"The Masters reach is long. We are protected here in ways even you cannot imagine." Jessie said sharply, her white face stark in the muted light.  
   
"Jessica!' Patsys patience ran out, the woman needed to get her shit together. Right now. 'You need to listen to me; Delia could be in danger. There are kids. Kids Jess. Children that could be in danger too. I know you still have feelings for Delia.”

“The men were instructed not to harm you... I will speak to them.” Jessie was speaking to herself, her hands tugged at the sleeve of her shirt.

“The police are on their way right now; if we try and slip away now we might be able to meet Delia and-"  
   
"I don't understand it...’ Jessie interrupted Patsy in such an unexpected undertone that it stopped Patsy cold. It was with longing that she peered over at Patsy, her head cocked on one side. ‘What's so special about you?"  
   
"Jessie, listen to me right now, Delia is in danger." Patsy felt like she was still dreaming. This whole month had been one long nightmare and she didn’t know what to do anymore. Where to go.  
   
"She made her choices. I made mine." Jessies voice was faint but it felt like she'd shouted. Patsy wished she had. Ice dragged across Patsys nerves.  
   
"What does that mean?" Patsy asked through suddenly gritted teeth.  
   
"I don't understand it,' Jessie repeated again sounding frustrated, not interested in the slightest by Patsys question, rising from her seat and standing up to peer curiously at her captive closer up. 'I keep trying to fathom the reasons but I can't... Why does the Master value you so highly Mount? What is so special about you?"  
   
"Let me down. Now!" Patsy tried to jerk her body away from Jessies view in her growing panic to escape but it just added to the momentum she was trapped in and she spun around even faster than before. Jessie advanced, her eyes boring into Patsy like she sought answers to questions she'd been asking for too long.  
   
"I've been watching you. He told me to watch you so I did. For years. I thought if I understood you better... But you're nothing.' Jessie bit her lip, frowning down at Patsy like she was being difficult on purpose. 'You're ordinary, you squander and waste any little talent you have. Yet you are all he thinks about. Why?"  
   
Patsy revolved on her chain, anger seeping its way through the surprise.  
   
"It wasn't a coincidence that we met in that pub was it?" She asked Jessie, annoyed at herself for not ignoring the womans pint when it had been offered.  
   
"No.' Jessie agreed vaguely as she rubbed her chin, 'I wanted to see what made you tick. The master values all information I provide of course and there was so much hype around you; all those whispers. I wanted to know if it was true. You really should have been more discrete; perhaps I wouldn’t have bothered if I didn’t know how easy it would be."  
   
Patsy revolved again and again as Jessie watched her. The silence was so thick it wouldn't be long before it broke under the weight of the tension. Patsy could only think of one response. One burning question.  
   
"Why? Why work for something like Abraham?" It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.  
   
"Haven't you guessed?’ Jessie raised her eyebrows. ‘Your giant of a friend at the mortuary's been sniffing around my office all this week, I assumed you'd made the link already. Turned Delia away from me with it. He's my uncle.' Jessie answered simply, 'My mothers youngest brother. They were split up in care when they were young but he used to visit our house sometimes. When I was little... I worshiped him." Again the eerie longing.   
   
"Uncle?' Patsy croaked as revulsion rendered her lost in a world too complex for her. Being an orphan suddenly felt like a blessing. Anything to stay away from family complications. Of course, Patsy thought wildly, Jessie could be lying, just trying to get a reaction but something in her eyes said she believed it. So... if Abraham was Jessies uncle then that meant that Patsy and Jessie were- 'You knew that and you still- What sort of person are you? A fucking Lannister?" Patsy shouted hotly.  
   
"I do what's necessary, I didn't break any laws. You didn't reject me." Jessie didn't sound quite as certain as she’d intended to, she watched Patsy hungrily as Patsys legs spasmed and she tried to free herself.  
   
"I will get out of here...’ Patsy gave up on escape as her back gave an ominous crack, breathing heavily, ‘and when I do-“  
   
"Threats.' Jessie eyes were too big for her face as she smiled. It looked familiar. A familiar gleam in the eye. Family traits Patsy kicked herself not to have seen before. 'You're friend made the same ones when we brought her here. They were just words when she said them too."  
   
"What friend?" Patsy asked through gritted teeth. She thought of Helen and wanted to cry.  
   
"Dyers wife. Pretty pretty little Valerie.' Jessie smirked as she looked down at her hands thoughtfully, 'She was fun. I can see the attraction there, the reasons why; such a waste."  
   
"Dyer said Abraham killed her.' Patsy moved again without her willing it to, betraying her feelings and the room spun faster and faster. Dizzyingly so that Jessies face was a blur and only her voice was clearly discernible in the swilling confusion.  
   
"Dyer?’ Jessie gave a derisive laugh. ‘And what would that idiot know about anything. The Master has many responsibilities. He gave her to me... Said I should have fun. So I did but, oh Pats' Jessie struck out an arm abruptly to stop Patsy turning, looking down at Patsy in wistful abandon, 'I so wished it would be you instead. Pretty little Val didn't look quite so pretty when we were finished with her I’m afraid."  
   
Patsy couldn't speak. Her hands were bound and all she could do was wait for Jessie to come close enough. When she did... Patsy felt a pang of relief that she’d sent the information to Ursula when she did. That meant someone out there was looking for her. She just had to survive long enough for the police to turn up. So... Keep Jessie talking.  
   
"I don't believe you. You were at Trixies same as me that night. You were with Delia." A new possibility crept down the dark recesses of Patsys brain as she said it but she pushed the horrible thoughts away. No. She must not panic. Delia would never do anything like this.   
   
"Yes I was.' Jessie agreed still with an air of smug amusement, 'and then I left. I had business to attend to. Delia has been long trained to accept this although,' an ugly look flashed across Jessies face, 'you rather seem to have a knack for intimating yourself where you don't belong Patsy. I didn't expect that somehow. An error on my part it seems."  
   
"You knew... The whole time. You fucking knew everything." Patsy remembered Trixies party. Remembered the sick sinking of memories at Jessies taunts. Games. All of it someone elses games.  
   
"I did what was necessary although,' Jessie gave another smirk, 'I admit that I did enjoy it a little too. Poor little lost girl, so scared and afraid.' Jessie was using the same baby voice she'd used on Delia in their spare room what felt like years ago and Patsys fists balled uselessly behind her back. 'So pathetically wrapped up in yourself. Valerie told me you would find me near the end, when she could still speak. She was so certain of you. So was your tragic little mother figure. Fools. I stand by my previous statement Pats, people like you should be put down early, save the rest of us so much clean up time later on."  
   
"Where... Where's Helen? What have you done to her." Patsy didn't think she could cope with much more. She wanted to wake up and be somewhere else. Someone else. Just an end to this prolonged badness.  
   
"She's alive.' Jessie shook her head as though disappointed by her own statement, 'The Master felt that her demise was better placed close to your own. He has great plans for you." Jessie shook her head again looking puzzled once more and Patsys brain whirred feverishly in her pounding skull.  
   
If Helen was alive then she needed to get out of here. She needed to find a way to get through all of this. Trying to look around herself covertly was difficult when Jessie was so close by but Jessie didn't seem wholly focused on Patsy right now. Too assured that she was untouchable in this moment.  
   
Patsy tucked her chin a little closer to her chest and squinted up to her feet. She was still wearing her boots and if she just moved a little... Ahh, there it was, a tiny glimmer of metal caught in the dim lighting. So she still had that knife at least. From her current position she couldn't be sure about the second one but her jeans didn't look disturbed so she may have just about found her silver lining. The chains attached to her legs were rusting metal and there was no way that she would be able to cut through them but then again, maybe she wouldn't need to.   
   
If Abraham had a big old finale planned out then perhaps she would need to be moved somewhere else for it. She’d have her legs free then, she’d need to walk. A good kick to someones knee and she could try and run. The ties around her wrists were painfully tight but they weren't metal. Cable ties? Patsy flexed just a little more trying to feel for the loose end and thought she felt something plastic graze her thumb before becoming distracted when Jessie stepped away, walking back to the desk and fiddling with something that looked like a soldering iron. A light glowed red as Jessie turned on the power. Patsy eyed the machine with apprehension. She needed to keep Jessie distracted.  
   
"Why are you doing this? You have everything, everything anyone could want. Why?" Patsy didn't care much why really but it did the trick. Jessie turned to her with raised eyebrows and a superior expression that Patsy internally vowed to wipe away some time very soon.  
   
"Everything? You think a cheap job working with Londons filth and a crippled has-been who cries over missed dinner dates counts as everything? I was born to be great." Jessie neatly crossed her ankles, openly glaring at Patsy now.  
   
"Great?’ Patsy grinned nastily. ‘You were born bat shit crazy from where I'm standing- sorry, levitating. You can't seriously believe that Abraham intends to keep you around once he's got what he wants."  
   
"Unlike you the Master respects the ties of blood." Jessie snapped curtly, but there was something there, some tiny reservation hiding in her eyes. She wasn’t entirely convinced even now. Patsy lunged at the weak spot.  
   
"Respect? Can you even hear yourself, he burned fifty people to death in this building. I'm his daughter, didn't stop him from trying to kill me did it."  
   
"As I would have.’ Jessie intoned stonily. ‘He's told me all about you; lying, deceitful little brat that you are. I would have put you down myself. You were not fit to carry his name." Jessies fist swung by her side but she didn't move to strike and Patsy found that odd. Jessie hadn’t hurt her yet.  
   
Monkey. Not the organ grinder.  
   
"So what's the hold up?' Patsy taunted, testing out her theory. 'Why not just get it over with now; I'm all dressed up and ready to go. Just cut my throat already. If he wanted me to die so badly why didn't you just off me before now? It's not like you haven't had opportunity."  
   
Jessie paused as though considering this, chewing her lip as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. Patsy waited, unable to do much else.  
   
"You are required to die at the correct moment. The Master is... Infatuated with the idea of killing you himself. Your betrayal has scarred him very deeply."  
   
"Oh dear, my heart bleeds for the poor thing." Patsy retorted sarcastically and Jessies head snapped up. Ruffled at the slight.  
   
"When you are dead I will become his child. I will become his heir, the heir you failed to become. He will give me the world." Jessies face was lit with some manic internal fire. Madness took people like that sometimes; individuals squeezed the crazy until it was something more solid than metal. You could throw rocks of reality at the meandering lunacy and it would just bounce right back. Jessie had clearly gone over some mental edge so long ago that she was possibly circling back round to sane from the opposite direction.  
   
"Sounds to me like you just needed a few more hugs as a kid.' Patsy observed dryly. 'Maybe you should talk to someone about that. I hear St Martins has a lot of beds free this time of year."  
   
"You are trying to rile me." Jessie said through clenched teeth and Patsy shot her a full beam smile.  
   
"That's right Jess. That's another one of my many talents."  
   
“You might be laughing now but I promise you that when He’s finished you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.” Little red pinpricks were growing in the apples of Jessies cheeks. Her arms fell away from her chest and hung stiff as boards beside her like she was forcing them to stay there with a great deal of effort.  
   
“It’s only got this side Jess because not all of us are two faced around here.” Patsy said with a wry laugh. She felt the electrical thrum of adrenaline bursting inside her. People were trying to kill her and she wasn't dead yet. That was the sweet thing about life, you were there to enjoy it. As for Jessie, well, was Jessie really supposed to be the warm up act? She hadn’t even hit Patsy yet, Patsy would have at least put the boot in a bit by now if the roles were reversed.  
   
Amateur.  
   
“He plans to torture you I hope you realise that.” Jessie threatened, gnashing her teeth together.  
   
Patsy couldn’t really shrug from her current position but she gave her best attempt. The chains clinked silkily against each other as she revolved faster for a few seconds.  
   
“Let him try. I can handle pain; I’ve stood on Lego.” Patsy said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.  
   
“Lego!’ Jessie’s face clouded into anger as Patsy watched it dip in and out of her field of vision; clearly incensed at Patsys total lack of fear. ‘He will destroy you, he will grind you into a pulp, he will make you beg for mercy.”  
   
“Well obviously,’ Patsy grunted, rolling her eyes. ‘At this point he better bloody well better be planning to hurt me, I’m hardly hanging here for my health am I Jessica.” Patsy couldn’t help but enjoy the impotent rage emanating from Jessie. She’d clearly been told not to hurt Patsy and her desire to do it was palpable.  
   
Maybe if Patsy could make her angry enough she’d screw up a little. Patsy still had at least one knife on her person that she knew about for certain...  
   
“Do you think you’re funny Mount?” Jessie said bitterly. Patsy snorted and chanced another look at her boot.  
   
“Not really...’ The glint of the knife tip at her boot wouldn’t give enough sharpness to get through the chains. Maybe she could break through the ties on her arms though. If she had her hands free perhaps she'd be able to pick the lock with the knife. Or swing up somewhere hands couldn't reach her... It was a lot of if's but it wasn't as though Patsy had all that much choice at the moment. If she was going to try and bust through the ties then she needed Jessie to be so pissed off she stopped paying any kind of attention. Luckily pissing people off was Patsys special talent; she could do it without trying to most of the time. ‘But Delia does, Delia thinks I’m the bees pyjamas, so I suppose you could say I have a better grasp of our collective audience than you do.”  
   
"Delias interest in you is a testimony to her own poor judgement.' Jessie said without emotion, unmoved by the taunt. 'She's made her decision. She will suffer for it. You have done more damage than you can imagine in your ignorance. When she dies it will be your fault."  
   
"Dies?" Patsys throat was tight as she felt her legs twitch unconsciously.  
   
"She's here." Jessie wouldn't meet Patsys eye as she turned back to the table.  
   
Patsy turned round and round as her mind filled with possibilities. Here? Then what had happened to the kids? Did she even dare ask and draw attention to them. 'What do you mean die? How did you get her?"  
   
"I told you; the Masters reach is great. You should know by now that he does not believe in unfinished business. This event was inevitable the minute you dared enter my home."  
   
"Unfinished business' Patsy couldn't spit the words out fast enough, incensed, her fists balled again and she wanted to scream in frustration. The world didn't make sense anymore and she couldn't get off this ride. 'She's a person. Jessie, please, don't do this. You have to get her out of here. These are real people. You can keep me but let the others go. Please." Patsy felt ash in her mouth as she pleaded with someone who didn't care. Jessie just smiled.  
   
"When he kills you... I'll remember this moment.' She breathed carefully, her eyes suddenly glued to Patsys, 'I've wanted you dead the moment he told me about you. You were never worthy to be his."  
   
"You are out of your fucking tree!"  
   
"So the unworthy said to Noah before the flood. I assume even you recall what happened to them." Jessie said calmly but a vein was throbbing in her head.  
   
"You aren't Noah Jessica. You're just tapped. He'll probably kill you very soon you know. Dear God do you really think that you've got a future here. You're dead meat Jessie same as me. The only difference is I won't sign my own death warrant."  
   
"Lies.' Jessie hissed. 'The Master loves me, he trusts in the power of family."  
   
This really was too much. Patsy felt tears of anger flood out of her eyes as she threw back her head and laughed harshly.  
   
“What are the wages of sin Jessica?” She asked through white lips. Family indeed. Jessie clearly hadn't heard the whole family history it seemed.  
   
“I- What?” Jessica was looking through Patsy distractedly, a flush of fear growing as Patsy sneered.  
   
“Haven’t got that far with him? Well I’m sorry to give out spoilers but you know, since I’m here, I’ll ruin the surprise. What are the wages of fucking sin?”  
   
“Well...’ Came a smooth voice from behind Patsy. A rich, baritone voice she knew to the grooves of her bones. ‘I suppose one could say that the wages of sin are me Patience. Only me.” The door closed with a thump of iron on wood.   
   
Footsteps close by rolled in and seemed to silence Patsy. Even her heart fell silent as she froze where she hung. Listening. Listening to the progress of the man who was walking easily towards them, his voice was the key to a million memories. A million nightmares. That voice was Patsys nightmares.  
   
Abraham.  
   
Patsy saw him in snippets first, his face opening out and falling into sharp focus as he walked towards her. Her heart spiked painfully in her chest; she had forgotten... after all this time and even though she thought she never would she had somehow allowed herself to forget details along the years. It was strange how much she had forgotten him really, the little features of his face. The arrogance of his walk.   
   
He was still handsome despite the yawning years between this moment and the last one they’d shared together. She noted all the tiny nuances with faint stirrings of surprise before being irritated at herself for it. It ought not to be such a surprise to her really.   
   
Her father had always been handsome. Always eye catching. It was how he made friend so easily. People trusted in the handsome; they allowed themselves to be distracted by the glamour of him, the Hollywood shine to his skin. They didn’t see the truth of what he was hiding in his eyes. They didn’t notice the way that his fixed smile always seemed to be laughing at you, never with you, never at the joke because deep down it was really you that was the joke to him. The whole expanding sprawling mess of the world was just a joke he understood better than everyone else.   
   
He was tall, a good few inches taller than Jessica in her heels as he stopped beside the woman, that at least hadn’t changed and Patsy knew instinctively that there would be hardly an inch in difference between him and her. His hair was honey gold, thick and carefully mussed across his offensively symmetrical features. His wide, shining eyes were the blue of open skies. His delicate mouth, the high cheekbones that cut his profile. The strong line of the jaw. Patsy knew it all so well. She saw it staring back at her in every mirror.  
   
He’d grown a beard now she noticed, the only evidence of age was in the flecks of white knitting through the subtle hair. If anything it just seemed to have added to his allure. He’d never allowed that sort of thing before. He’d been strict on every aspect of the flocks aesthetics. The men were clean shaven. The girls too. Hair was for the unwashed. Unclean.  
   
Patsy could do nothing but watch in horrified fascination as Jessie stood up straight, her face the slack jawed face of a dog at its masters feet. Abrahams laughter flowed out of his eyes as he took the woman in.  
   
When Patsy was small she’d been afraid to look directly at him. He always seemed to look through people. He’d certainly looked through her.   
   
“She is damaged.” Abraham was obviously speaking about Patsy but he didn’t look at her. His focus was all on Jessie who blushed, ducking her head nervously.  
   
“It was not my doing. Your handlers were... overzealous. She isn’t drastically damaged, she's still fit for your plans.” Jessie was too rushed, her hands shaking. Patsy found her lips curling of their own volition, vicariously enjoying the sight of Jessies uncertainty until she realised that Abraham was shooting the woman an almost identical look.  
   
Jessie’s days were numbered alright. Patsy had seen that look before too. It was usually a precursor that face fruit few days later when the cause of that look received their punishment. The look was calculated. It said; you are nothing. You are the absence of worth. You are my property and I enjoy breaking things.  
   
Jessie, unaware of her impending doom, licked her lips and pointed to the table hurriedly, obviously eager to please.  
   
“I’ve brought everything you asked for. It’s all there... I would like to help you master.”  
   
Patsy eyed the table again warily as Jessie spoke. Taking the contents in with fresh eyes. She was too far into numbness to feel the fear at the moment but it was in the post. There was a huge set of hooks resting on the edge of the table; the big industrial type used in fishing boats. The edges looked too well honed and as Patsy watched the metal caught the light. It made her uneasy. Their edges were too sharp. She remembered the blood stains on the far wall and tried to think of anything but that.   
   
This was going to hurt.  
   
“Help me?” Abrahams voice was light, hypnotic and rich as he watched Jessie blush.   
   
He was a sucking void in the room, his smile demanded attention but that was where people made their mistake. In looking at his face they had turned their attention away from his hands. That was usually a terminal mistake.   
   
He’d always been a fast bastard when he needed to be Patsy recalled distantly. He had that inbuilt predators instinct for standing still until he suddenly wasn’t anymore.   
   
“I- I thought we could end this together.” Jessie said faltering as something blazed in Abrahams eyes. She took a step backwards as he raised his hand to stroke his beard.  
   
“Thoughtful. Thoughtful of you.’ He murmured into his hand calmly, his face distant as though thinking of something else. There was a pause as Patsy watched Jessie’s eyes turn to stare at hers for a moment, not knowing quite what to do, before Abraham struck as Patsy had known he would.   
   
His hand moved impossibly fast as he slapped Jessie shockingly hard around the face. The force was so great that she toppled over unbalanced and hit the concrete floor with a crunch of hip and shoulder. Patsy saw Abraham smile with satisfaction as he brought his hands down  again and placed them casually in his pocket. ‘Do you think that I need assistance in handling my own daughter Jessica.”  
   
“No.’ Jessie was holding her cheek, the cut in her lip was bleeding again. She looked both afraid and awed. Patsy felt disgusted by them both as she hung in her spot; an unenthusiastic spectator. ‘No I just wanted to help you Master. I wanted to please you.”  
   
Abraham looked down on Jessie, the evil glint in his eyes vanishing almost as though it never had been as he bent to pull Jessie back to her feet in a perverted show of chivalry that made a mad laugh bubble up Patsys throat. She’d seen this act a thousand times.  
   
He really hadn’t changed one bit.  
   
“My dear sweet, sweet Jessica,’ Abraham cooed as he plucked at Jessies hands and brought his lips to her right hands knuckles. They were clenched white where his larger ones pinned them. Patsy watched Jessie’s face pale in pain but she didn’t pull away. She stared up at Abraham so slavishly enthralled it was indecent. ‘I must apologise, forgive me. Forgive an old mans temper... This situation is... Delicate. I need to be alone a while. Go now, we have other guests to prepare for.”  
   
Jessie swayed as her hand was released, her eyes taking in the table, Patsy and Abraham a few times in turn. For a second Patsy thought that the woman might be about to argue; demand that she be allowed to remain but the seconds dissent was all it was. Nodding her head and retreating with her back to the door Jessie left the room. The door echoed very loudly against the silence as it was scraped open and replaced once more. Leaving Patsy and Abraham alone together. No one spoke. Patsy watched Abraham as he wandered slowly to the table, not deigning to glance at her yet.  
   
He seemed to be thinking hard. First he checked the soldering iron; pulling the attachment free of its holder and pressing the heated tip against the wood. The wood smoked and fizzed where the heat burned and after a moments scientific interest Abraham replaced it. Then he opened a case that had been leaning against the leg of the table. The snick of the clasps unlatching was loud in the oppressive silence of the small room. Somewhere far off Patsy thought she heard the faint buzz of a fly at work amongst the corpses around her. Maybe it sensed a fresh meal being prepared.  
   
The inside of the suitcase was dark velvet, the contents moulded to its structure carefully because murderers hate to be inconvenienced by messy tools. Patsy spied many glinting objects that gave off an indeterminable air of menace and extreme sharpness. She tried to gulp but something was stuck in her throat.  
   
Humming tunelessly Abraham pulled out a knife with a thick handle, weighing it in his hand experimentally, The tip bent off in an unpleasant angle, the edge was jagged and did not look like it was used just for steak, he pressed his thumb against the edge to test it and his humming increased a little in pleasure.  
   
Patsy tried to gulp again but gave up as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She'd have to pace herself with the gulps by the look of things. Besides; the whole thing was bordering on lunacy. Abraham was clearly enjoying this bit and Patsy was buggered if she would allow him his fun without a snippet of snark.   
   
"Nice knives. Really sets of the whole doom and gloom atmosphere; honestly, you should go into marketing. Dungeons can be so passé without good silverware."  
   
Abrahams white teeth gleamed against his lips as he smiled and raised the knife a little higher for Patsys inspection.  
   
"Only the best for you my little bean."  
   
"I didn't know you cared so much. I'm choked." Patsy replied testily.  
   
"Not yet you're not Patience. Not yet." Abraham said tenderly, replacing the knife and running his hands over the hooks now, his thumb and forefinger gliding over the chain with apparent interest.  
   
"I consider this overkill by the way. Just so we're clear with one another. Jessie? Weed. You really need to explore better staff if you're pulling the evil overlord card again." Patsy knew she should shut her mouth but she couldn't do it. Adrenaline pooled in her heart and she had to keep talking. Talking meant she wasn't dead yet.  
   
"I shall take your advise into consideration in due course Patience. But I have not come here to discuss my employment plans with you. No, indeed this is about us. You and I."  
   
"I don't have anything to say to you." Patsy said quietly as Abraham finally looked at her. So similar. Two halves of a grubby coin.   
   
“Look at you.’ Abraham gushed before her like an earthed angel. So handsome it hurt to see him, his finger stroked across his lips. ‘Look at you; my little bean grown into fruition. I don’t know quite what to say, I feel almost emotional."  
   
Patsy said nothing, there was nothing she could say to that statement really. The chain attached to her feet groaned as she continued to spin like she was dust trapped in the beam of an unyielding sun.  
   
"I spent so long picturing your face, all through those long years we were apart.’ Abraham clapped his hands loudly, suddenly business like as he turned to the table and picked up the heavy pair of hooks. They were connected by a thick chain that slithered over its own links as it was dragged across the table and thrown to the floor. Heavy. ‘You are every bit as beautiful as I imagined you would be. Perfection. The very evidence of my own creation.’ Abraham stopped again an evilly sharp hook in each hand, the chain suspended around his neck like a haute fashionista in fashion week and nodded encouragingly at Patsy. ‘You should feel truly blessed."  
   
Patsy blinked slowly, the room was a pale, twilight zone, 360 degree version of hell. Right now she could admit to feeling a variety of emotions but blessed wasn't amongst the jostling symphony.  
   
"Still, never mind small talk now. I know how it kills conversation in certain situations...’ Abraham rested the hook securely around a nearby corpses neck as though dead bodies were just another type of hat stand and sat down on the chair neatly, his face alive with humour. ‘I've been planning our reunion since the day we parted Patience. I have lain awake. I have dreamt of your face; I have dreamt...’ He paused and licked his lips. ‘Such things for when we were together again... You should have known not to betray me little one. You broke my heart."  
   
"I told the truth.' Patsy said flatly with a voice almost as calm and steady as Abrahams. The panic and dread swimming around her seemed to be crystallising and setting a diamond lens to her brain. 'You murdered everyone. You almost murdered me. People don’t get away with things like that in a civilised world."  
   
"Ahh Patience,' Abraham shook his head in almost pitying amusement, as though Patsy was a petulant child that had made a rather tasteless joke and he was teaching her right from wrong. 'We disagree. I sent them to paradise. I gave them a home in the house of God. Who were you to interfere with that? Who were you to castigate me on such things? I am and always will be Gods messenger, you know this. Why, even inside your heretical heart you must know this to be true.’ He places his hands against his chest in mock surrender. ‘You know me, what I did for our flock was a kindness. You betrayed even them when you condemned me to outsiders perjury."   
   
It was the voice. That damned all knowing, confident preachers voice that sang to her blood. She hadn’t heard it in nearly two decades and still it frightened her. Old muscles she thought she’d exercised away years before tightened. She hated him. She hated how afraid she was.   
   
"You're a murderer. I'll never regret what I did; I did the right thing." She had done the right thing. She would always do the right thing.   
   
"The right thing?' Abrahams eyes glowed with malice but his smile didn't change. It sat fixed upon his handsome face like the mask it was. 'The right thing would have been to follow the instructions I gave you.’ He said it soft as acid rain wearing away mountains. ‘The right thing would have been to move on with the rest of our people. What other choice was there? You survived and now here you languish in a word where you do not belong; deviant and malformed as you are.’ He tutted and rubbed his hand against the crucifix hanging around his neck wearily. ‘You have become such a disappointment to me. My own blood; a betrayer to the rightful cause."  
   
"What cause?' Patsy interrupted harshly. 'All I ever saw was you. You and your insanity. God wouldn't have you even if he existed."  
   
"Enough!' Abraham interrupted, sitting straighter in his chair, 'I have not waited all this time to waste my time on your petty delusions. We have games to play together."  
   
"Thanks but no thanks; I’m crap at scrabble. You know, some peoples fathers collect stamps or affairs. Maybe you should branch out; the whole messenger of God routines wearing a little thin my end." Patsys heart seemed to be expanding. It hurt to breathe, sweat was building on her forehead but she had to keep going now. She'd die before she backed down in front of this man.  
   
She gasped as his foot kicked out and struck her chin. Her head snapped up at once but that didn’t seem to have been Abraham’s goal. She began to spin faster.  
   
“Round and around and around she goes.’ Abraham said in a singsong voice, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket. ‘Where she stops... Nobody knows.”  
   
Patsy felt sick. Her cheek hurt dully and the uneven spinning made her back flex awkwardly. Abraham was lifting up the hooks again.  
   
“Ahh Patience.’ He sighed dreamily, weighing the metal curves in his hand reflectively. ‘I must commend you in some ways, I really must. You have grown up into everything this world celebrates. I would almost go so far as to say that I am... Proud.”  
   
“Go and fuck your pride.” Patsy spat at Abrahams face as it flew past her again. It missed by a fine margin but Abraham’s eyes did narrow slightly. Piqued.  
   
“You’ve forgotten your manners bean. A shame. I recall teaching you better than that.” Shaking his head faintly he stepped over to the body directly beside Patsy and lifted one of the hooks to rest against its slack jawed face. The razor sharp point was positioned directly between the dead woman’s eyes.   
   
Patsy had seconds to see it and even then only managed to grab a faint flash of metal as she spun stupidly on her chain but she heard it when the hook was pushed through the woman’s skull. She wished she hadn’t. The organic squelching sound as the hook went though the hanging flesh and bone sounded like two pieces of velcro being pulled apart. Something black and tarry blobbed and fizzled around the newly carved hole and dribbled lazily down the womans puffy face. Old blood.   
   
The smell from the body, if it was even possible, increased with the newly formed exit. Patsy felt herself gag involuntarily as she glimpsed the wrecked features of her neighbour. The hook had come out again somewhere near the woman’s bottom lip splitting it almost in half, piercing the soft palate of her mouth. With the smooth top of the metal curve hanging between mouth and the wide bridge of her nose it looked like a strange body modification gone wrong. She only managed to restrain herself by sheer force of will. By the look of victory in Abrahams face he’d noticed.  
   
His tigers smile widened just a little. Running the chain attached to the hook through a loose fist he advanced towards her with deadly promise in every step.  
   
“Do you know what I’ve missed the very most Patience? Can you guess?” He was so close.   
   
His hand blurred with sudden speed to grip Patsy by the neck, her legs shook awkwardly side to side above her as he prevented the endless rotations in one terminal move and she hated the feel of his hands on her skin. It felt too familiar. She’d thought she’d forgotten but she hadn’t. Just locked it away with all the other nightmares.  
   
Their eyes met. Blue on blue.  
   
“Surely... Surely not getting bummed in the shower block must be in your top ten at least?” Patsy just about managed to say it with the faint remnants of bravado she had left but it was hard, his hand was squeezing her windpipe.  
   
Patsy had expected a slap at this point, more likely a punch but Abraham just smiled a little wider as he sighed theatrically and brought his other hand around Patsy. They’re bodies crept closer in a strange embrace.   
   
Something sharp pricked Patsys back, just behind her right shoulder blade. Slowly, his breathing a calm threat, he brought his mouth down to Patsys ear. The moist malevolence of his voice reverberated around her head.  
   
“I miss your screams... I’ve missed hurting you.”  
   
Patsy couldn’t formulate an answer. She didn't have time. Her brain was suddenly bursting open, her mouth an O of agony as Abraham stood back with purpose, his arm jack-knifing towards himself, pulling the hook along for the ride.  
   
Patsy was in the way.  
   
The metallic hook rammed through Patsys shoulder, it’s serrated edge cutting through muscle and sinew and flesh and bone like it was just so much meaningless nonsense. Patsy felt her body jolt and buck, her shoulders burning from their confinement, trying to dislodge something that was carving its way through her.   
   
Hardly able to see through the steaming pain that was filling her up from the inside she looked to her front. The evil shining hook was already poking through her shirt, the sharp curve of it pressed against the rapidly staining fabric just above her breast. Vaguely, she tasted rust in her mouth and knew that she'd bitten her tongue.  
   
She would not scream. She would not scream. She would not scream.  
   
Abraham had taken a step back apparently wanting to admire his work, his eyes fixed on Patsys face expectantly. She was barely aware of him; pain was a marble on a wire jolting from her toes to her head. It was everything. Pain was everything she knew.  
   
And then something made a clicking sound from the direction of the table and she knew that she couldn't pretend she hadn't heard it. When she finally turned away from the hook she met Him stare for stare. He'd picked up the soldering iron from its heated cradle and was holding it reverently in his hand. If possible his smile deepened, his eyes alight with malice. He shook his head, chuckling ruefully. Patsy felt spit drip down her face as her mouth filled with blood. She spat it out angrily.  
   
"That's... That's all you've got. Tickled more than anything." She grumbled. Abraham laughed louder, throwing his head back as he rubbed his hands together.  
   
“My little Patience, you truly are one of a kind.”  
   
Patsy couldn't speak. Her closed mouth was the only thing keeping the agony in, her head felt like it was swelling as the pressure built. She closed her eyes to block him out.  
   
She would not scream. She would not scream. She would not make a fucking sound.  
   
Warm hands reached out and pulled away the sodden fabric around the metal. Patsy twitched at the contact but she could barely feel it around the pain. Abraham was reviewing his efforts for a moment, humming under his breath as he poked at where it hurt. Patsy watched him from upside down as he tilted his face querulously before stretching forward his neck and brushing his tongue against the wound. Licking her blood. Patsy hissed in disgust as she registered the strangeness of his tongue and tried to pull away but he was holding her still, the hooks chain prevented any possibility of escape and he was pulling away with her blood on his lips and Patsy felt bile charge into her mouth and his mouth was opening in delight as his hand moved-  
   
The smell of burning flesh hit her even as the fresh wave of pain did. Hot. Burning. Her eyes burst open as she gasped watching the tiny curling smoke drift away from her as the iron glided around the torn skin draping the hook that was still bleeding in ernest. It fell away as the iron burned it. Feathers of skin floated past her field of vision.  
   
"Cauterises the wound...' Abraham murmured casually, walking back over to the table and replacing the iron. The tip fizzled as it rocked in its cradle. Bile was clawing its way up Patsys throat. Choking her as she forced herself to keep breathing. 'Can't have you bleeding out can we bean? You'd miss all the fun."  
   
Patsys vision was clouding, her mouth was overfilling with saliva and blood and she couldn't keep it trapped behind the seal of her lips. She could feel the salty tang of it run down her face, dribbling along the curve of her eye socket.  
   
"Patience.' Abraham had noticed because he always noticed and reached into his jacket to bring out a crisp white handkerchief with a flourish. The movement bizarrely reminded Patsy of Delia; sitting in Delias house as she comforted Patsy about her shit life. The parallel brought tears of frustration to her eyes as Abraham gently wiped away the blood in a mock of concern. 'There we go' he murmured when he'd done, 'we don't want your pretty face ruined do we?"  
   
Patsy grimaced and aimed a globule of bloody spit directly into his face. This time she didn't miss and she watched with satisfaction as he recoiled in disgust, wiping angrily at his own face now.  
   
The next punch to the face hardly hurt. The jerk of the hook in her chest as she was prevented from spinning did though. The pain was a red ball she balanced with the very tips of her mental fingertips.  
   
"You little bitch." Hissed Abraham as he straightened and smoothed his hair in agitation. Patsy bared her teeth in a deadly smile. Blood oozed out the corners of her mouth but she didn't care.  
   
Obviously forcing himself to calm again Abraham paused, his eyes tracking up and down Patsy like he was considering his options before nodding to himself.   
   
“You bring this on yourself.” He warned her. Patsy didn’t have the mental strength the reply at the moment so she settled for blowing a raspberry. The blood mingled with the spit and splattered her own face but she knew it would irritate him.  
   
Abrahams lips tightened momentarily, his eyes turned hard and then... And then he shook his head, his face clearing. Suddenly with another burst of speed, he brought his fist down hard on the smooth curve of the hook with almost clinical precision. The metal sunk a few inches lower into Patsys chest, the flesh around the hole stretched against the blow with a sickening tearing gush. Blood burst through the burned skin, the fresh capillaries breaking from the impact and Patsy broke.  
   
She screamed.   
   
It hurt. Everything hurt.  
   
“Shhhhhh.” Soft fingers glided across her misshapen bent shoulders. She felt the edge of his nails rake through her scalp, running through her hair but it was too gentle. Too soft. She didn’t want it to be nice. Didn’t want any part of this to be connected in any way to a positive. She’d have preferred him to just beat the shit out of her. She tried to jerk away wildly. Tried to throw him off.  
   
“Yes... It hurts doesn’t it Patience. Give in to your sins.”  
   
She hated him. She hated him.  
   
“Red?” He asked close by but she couldn’t see him through the blood. It sounded like a question and it took her time to work out what he was talking about now. Hair? Patsy was too exhausted to find a snark. She was losing steam, her chest was a growing well of pain and she didn’t know how she was going to get out of this alive.  
   
Probably wouldn’t.  
   
“First packet I saw in the shop.” She mumbled. Her lips were numb from too many hits. Cold and thick against her tongue. Her eyes were jammed shut with sweat and blood. The desire to fall into oblivion was hard to ignore as the pain grew and her shirt soaked itself with her blood.  
   
“I don’t like it.’ He said churlishly. The hands in Patsys hair tightened and dragged her face up to the light. ‘In my mind I planned to kill a blonde tonight.”  
   
Patsy couldn’t make her face lie anymore. Her face was too numb and swollen. When she opened her mouth more blood sloshed out down her face.   
   
“S-Sorry to disappoint you.” She whispered almost solemnly as Abrahams hand pulled her towards him. The chain creaked somewhere above.   
   
“You look like that other one. The dead girl. I don’t like it.” Abraham’s voice was petulant; a child denied a favourite treat.  
   
Patsy coughed. With her head tilted this way it made the fresh torrent of blood run down her throat more. Thick and fast and hard to breathe.   
   
“Should of... RSVP’d earlier then.” She wheezed.   
   
Abraham sighed abruptly and released his hold of her hair. The chain slackened for a moment and then tightened again as she swung on his carelessly created pendulum. The hook bit into her flesh a little more and Patsy hoped it would end soon. The pain was a crow bar inside her head; destroying all reason. She wanted to die. She was so tired of living.  
   
“I met with your acquaintance this evening; the enchanting Delia.’ He was rummaging in some inner pocket of his jacket as he spoke, his tone light and friendly once more. ‘I like her. Beautiful eyes and that lovely accent.’ Patsy forced herself not to move as she stared down at Abraham’s brilliantly polished shoes. Delia. She should have never dragged the woman into this mess. Abraham had seemingly found what he was searching for, he’d fallen still beside her. His breathing even and calm. ‘When I finish with you I think I’ll cut out her tongue and add it to my collection. I’ve always enjoyed a woman who can roll her consonants.”  
   
“She’s... she’s not a part of this.”  
   
“Oh come now Patience let's be honest with one another. She gave you shelter. If it weren’t for her I would have taken you weeks ago; it’s strange really.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘We really are very alike.”  
   
“I am nothing like you.” Patsy bit back stonily. Repressing the old fears as they surged. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t.  
   
“Oh but you are.’ Abraham said with a cruel laugh. ‘People like us; we always find someone follow enough to let us crawl inside and hide. Disappearing and reinventing ourselves. It’s almost a shame that she will have to die though, but... Only in God will she find her deliverance.”  
   
“You’re insane.’ Suddenly Patsy couldn’t stop herself from biting back. ‘You’re nothing but a sad man who likes to hurt people. I’m nothing like you.”  
   
“Hmm,’ Abraham didn’t seem to be listening to her. Already moving on to the next step of his script, all careless of Patsys interruptions. His hands were drifting through Patsys hair again but with more purpose now. His fingers were dragging it all to the back of her skull, looping the strands around and around his fist. ‘Red hair. Just like the other one; I blame your mother for your wilful disobedience. Her weakness infected your blood from the very first breath. She was... A bad vessel. I should have known you would be a disappointment.”  
   
“Don’t talk about her!”   
   
“A show of loyalty Patience?’ The hands released her hair as he seemed to change his mind for the moment and gripped her face instead, dragging it upwards to meet his. His beautiful face was harshly brilliant. ‘You’re new mummy’s waiting for us right now. Another mother you cannot save and I must say I was surprised by your choice, impressed, but surprised. This one refused to beg for her life, she believed that you would best me. The arrogance of some women truly astound me at times.’ He shot Patsys a glowing smile. ‘Once you’re dead she will believe. She will beg me to end her miserable depraved life. They always do but, oh,’ he gave a sigh of gleeful reminiscence that sickened Patsy. ‘how Elizabeth begged me to save her bastard child when it was sickening. Begged me, as though she believed I would grant it mercy. I told her as I tell you Patience that the only wages of sin are death.”  
   
“Chastity was barely a child. She didn’t have any sin.”  
   
“Idiot girl. Don’t you know we mortals are born to sin. That child was the product of sin. Her existence was a betrayal of your mothers vows to me. To God. She was taken because the Lord wished it so.”  
   
“You killed her. There was no God, there was never any God. There was just you.” Chastity. Patsy remembered all the dead and wondered if they’d be there to meet her after this.  
   
“Heresy. For all your sins, all your deviance and degeneration to the station of your blood do you still disbelieve the lessons I taught you?”  
   
“I learned new lessons. I got away. I’m not yours anymore.” Patsy sighed fighting the creeping fog that was drifting in. So tired. She was so tired.  
   
“Ahh,’ Abraham whispered cruelly, ‘but no matter where you go, however far you run, there will always be just me my little Patience. I’m inside you. A part of you. Always.”  
   
“Not to me.”  
   
“Oh really? But I’m afraid that I don't believe you Patience. I'm always there. In the dark of the night when you wake up and you sweat as though chased by something you can't see. You go to your living room and stare at your mothers photograph. You see me reflected in the glass." He broke off to laugh loudly when Patsy twitched, the chains clanking angrily in their place.  
   
"I'm not afraid of you." Patsy hissed at empty air.  
   
"Maybe. Maybe you’re not.’ Abraham agreed affably, ‘but you are afraid little Patience. You will always be what I made you inside. You will always be mine." His hands were on her face, grasping her hair again. The claustrophobic feeling of him so close, unable to escape from him, was ripping her apart.  
   
"Don't touch me."  
   
"Don’t touch you? I don't need to touch you to hurt you Patience. We both know that.' He paused to let his words sink in, watched the horrible truth of it etch it ways into Patsys face before bringing back his fist and cuffing her full in the face. He didn’t intend to spin her now. Hot blood spewed from her nose and she had to curve her neck to to stop it filling her nasal cavity. He watched her spluttering, his eyes alight with malice. 'I don't need to touch you to hurt but I want to." His smiling mouth curved and shook in his humours and Patsy hated him. Hated him. Hated him.  
   
Her chest was so tight she felt like she was drowning. The never ending spinning and the realisation that she had no escape from this end filled her. She would die here. The police would be too late.  
   
“You... You won’t get away with this.”  
   
Patsy stopped turning as Abraham struck out to hold her by her hair. Something sharp and cold scraped across her scalp.  
   
“But I already have.” Abraham giggled happily as he flexed Patsys head this way and that like she was a doll. Inanimate.  
   
There was the scraping sensation again. Patsy couldn't quite understand what was happening anymore. She was stuck where she was as the cold thing slid over her head. Again and again, sometimes pulling as it made its journey through her hair. It took a while for her to see the strands of red as they fluttered passed her vision. It took longer to understand what it meant.  
   
Her head was cooler now. Abrahams fingers stretched out across it. Hair. He’d cut her hair. Patsy tried to see clearly through the swelling of her eye sockets to look at the floor. There was a red puddle of hair there. Her hair. He was cutting away her hair.  
   
Tears pricked at her eyes stupidly. Stupid. In reality he could have taken something else but he hadn’t. It was only hair.   
   
The cold sting of the razor glided around her ears, nicking the sensitive skin as it cut away more and more of Patsy. It seemed to go on for a long time. Patsy willed herself not to sob as she felt Abraham slide his thumb across the now bald skin.  
   
"I admit to you that even I, who have always known my course in life, gave in to despair when they locked me away to rot amongst the lowly and downcast. I believed that my life had ended, my great mission cut short." Abraham’s hands were shaking with some repressed feeling as he slid shut the razor and stepped away.  
   
He sat back down in his chair like it was a throne. Patsy didn’t turn to watch him. She tried to block his voice out but it was impossible. Even through the pounding in her ears and the numbness in her body he penetrated her mind. She couldn’t escape him. She’d never been able to do escape him really.  
   
"But like all the greatest Martyrs I was merely compelled to wait for the Lord to show me his next mission. Twenty long years. I thought of you constantly Patience, I thought I might never learn what had become of you but you-' He chuckled again as he reached around to pull the knife case onto his lap casually, 'you stayed where I left you. I don't suppose you could imagine my euphoria when I learned where you were. Waiting for me."  
   
"Wasn't." Patsy whispered weakly. The cold seemed to be biting more. Maybe it was the lack of hair, maybe it was the bleeding. Maybe  it would be easier to let go now. Everything hurt so much.  
   
"And yet here we both are.' Abraham continued musingly as though Patsy hadn't spoken. He was playing with some new thing, his hand flexing around the two handles experimentally. Something faint tapped metallically. Patsy couldn't pick it out through the swarming jet of black filling her vision. So much pain was blocking out her ability to free the next step. Maybe that meant she wouldn't feel whatever he did next.  
   
Abraham was back on his feet, walking around her this time still speaking.  
   
"You have lived a depraved life Patience. You have stepped away from the path I carved out for you. You have been privileged to live and yet you have wasted the gift."  
   
Patsy felt the darkening void in front of her widen out. She barely sensed the way her fingers were seperated out forcefully or the cool clip of steel against the upper joint of her middle finger. She did feel the increase of pressure are the metal began to tighten.  
   
He was going to cut off her fingers.  
Patsy couldn't move. She was so tired. So, so tired.  
   
The door opened with a loud bang and a charge of boots on concrete. The pressure released infinitesimally but Patsy coudln't see what was happening. A small beam of hope swelled as she imagined Ursula, Phyllis, someone, anyone breaking through Abrahams defences.  
   
"Boss, we've got intruders along the right perimeter. Our informant says that they're aware of us. They're bringing in teams. We need to get out of here."  
   
"No!' Abrahams growl of anger was a spot of light in the dark as Patsy closed her eyes. 'Not yet! Tell your men to cut them down. I need more time."  
   
There was a long pause, or maybe Patsy just passed out for a moment. She didn't hear the door close or feel Abraham move closer again until his lips were at her ear.  
   
"It seems we will have to rush things along."  
   
The metal clenched tightly. Patsy whimpered as she felt the deadening weight of her finger fall to the ground.  
   
Somewhere far far away a gun sprayed bullets.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken me weeks and I hate it. I haven’t been able to write properly on this one, had to keencoming away from it. I don’t think I’m ever going to write something this dark again. It isn’t my bag and I really struggled to get into it hence the delay which shows in the reading. It’s not even a good chapter, I’m frustrated that I haven’t achieved what I wanted to and quite possibly have created just a bunch of nasty dialogues. Next story is going to be fluffy as hell to make up for this. I can only apologise.
> 
> Shoutout for my dad suggesting how best to torture someone. He came up with the finger thing.
> 
> Now, anyone who is feeling a bit blue now please turn your attentions to now see here’s fic, she uploaded today and the fluff is amazing.
> 
> Comments are desired and if you do I promise to emotionally love you like a cheap whore (only emotionally though, I’m practically married) 
> 
> SB


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain  
> I guess it's a matter of sensation  
> But somehow, you have a way of avoiding it all  
> In my mind, I have shot you and stabbed you through your heart  
> I just didn't understand, the ricochet is the second part
> 
> Revenge - Danger mouse and sparkle horse.
> 
> A/N: Honestly it’s still grim but if you managed the last one this is a walk in the park by comparison.

"It seems we will have to rush things along."  
   
The metal clenched tightly. Patsy whimpered as she felt the deadening weight of her finger fall to the ground.  
   
Somewhere far far away a gun sprayed bullets.

“Come, quickly, we’re going for a walk together Patience.” Abraham went on as if he had not heard the sound at all. Perhaps if love was blind then insanity was deaf Patsy thought.

“Walk yourself to hell.” Patsy said dreamily as she wriggled her hand in shock. The pain in her middle finger seemed to be physically shooting through her whole arm. Gone. The right hand felt unbalanced. Not like her hand at all anymore.

“We move now!” Abraham said distantly but Patsy couldn’t concentrate on him through the pain. She couldn’t sense anything but pain. Blood dripped from her body like sweat where she hung.

She wanted to go home, she wanted to be someone else, she wanted not to be here. She wanted her Mum.

From somewhere behind her body a loud clanking sounded as a rope was pulled on a pulley and then the floor seemed to be rising up to meet her. Patsy had a few hazy seconds to brace on instinct, her head tucking tightly into her chest as she smashed torso first into the concrete. The collision appeared to lazor beam its intensity directly into the hook which bit evermore deeply into her skin. Pushing it even lower, tearing flesh wider and wider apart as more blood spilled until she didn’t think she could breathe anymore from the pain of it. 

Patsy wanted to weep. She wanted Helen. She wanted Delia. She wanted someone she loved to help her.

But they couldn’t help her now; they were waiting for her upstairs somewhere according to Abraham.

She lay curled in a foetal ball, her feet still bound together and her hands bent awkwardly behind her. Panting like a wounded animal. She’d fallen into the collected puddle of her own blood and it smeared across her face like she was painting it ready for war except this was already a war. A war with her own self and she was losing this battle.

She couldn’t breathe. She wished she was dead. She wished for an end to it all. So much pain. It was unbearable.

“Get up!” Abraham snapped at her from far away.

Patsy closed her eyes willing him to disappear. Like a child frightened of monsters. Only the monster was real and she couldn’t escape.

There was an organic squelchy sound as the hook that he’d embedded into the hanging corpse was pulled free of its bonds. The chains between that hook and the one embedded inside Patsy rattled ominously for a drawn out pause as Patsy curled tighter into a ball and then Abraham pulled his hook with a vicious yank and Patsy spun on the floor like a table top toy in free fall. Her screams rebounding from the walls as she felt herself blacking out.

“Get up! Now!” Abraham hissed again but Patsy was drifting somewhere else. So much blood, she was floating away as she found an insane laugh fighting its way through her lips.

He was more than insistent. He was almost afraid. It felt good to piss him off. To frustrate or inconvenience him. Helen would have been proud of her. When she’d been sixteen the country had gone to war and Helen had told Patsy sternly beside the television that she must never bend the knee to tyrants. Patsy might be bleeding out on the floor but she’d be damned if she’d let Abraham know he was winning.

“Need my hands.” She said to his shoes hoarsely, barely able to make the words real. But it was true. She’d need her hands to kill him.

A thought struck her as he paused to consider this request. The knife. As surreptitiously as she could Patsy pressed her hips into the floor, searching for the slight bulge that would tell her if the knife was still present. It was hard to sense anything. She needed her hands.

“You will not try to escape.” Abraham ordered heavily, capitulating against his desire to take her somewhere else, a slave to his own theatrics and Patsy laughed again.

“Why?’ She taunted hysterically. ‘You... Scared... You won’t be able to outrun me. Dad.” The last word made her laugh harder. To anyone else it probably sounded like sobs.

She didn’t have a father. She was the girl who had been no ones child until Helen. She was Helens child. She was not Patience she was Patsy. At this point it was vital that she remember that fact as she felt the crooked tip of Abrahams knife slice through the cable ties around her wrists and her arms fell numbly with twin thumps beside her.

“Now move!” Abraham said childishly, choosing not to see how impossible his demands were, as Patsy curled her hand beneath her, searching for the knife.

If she could just reach it, bring him closer she could stab him. She could end this.

And then Helen and Delia would be saved at least. Patsy could die happy knowing she’d saved someone.

But Abraham seemed to have realised she might be planning something along those lines because his shiny leather loafer was suddenly resting on the hook in Patsys back, pushing it ever forward and Patsys fingers fell limply away from the hem of her jeans as she bit back more screams. Pinned like the proverbially butterfly beneath the wheel.

Her ribs felt like they were going to explode into shards of bone against the growing pressure. Her eyes saw darkness rolling closer and she knew she wouldn’t be able to kill him now. Maybe she wouldn’t ever. 

Maybe she would have to find another way; if she could only get free somehow. She could ambush him in the commune. She had walked the halls for many years and she’d been good at hiding. She could find Helen and Delia. Plan some great escape.

Abrahams hands were rubbing their way down her calves, fumbling for something and Patsys heart pulsed anxiously as she considered her second knife; tucked away in her boot. Did he know? Was this just another game? He’d always seemed to be able to read her mind when she was young. Perhaps he was only playing with her.

Trying not to make it obvious she pointed her toes against the floor and pushed until she was almost certain that he wouldn’t see the tip of the blade protruding from the leather. Abraham seemed preoccupied with haste rather than details as he fumbled with the locks at Patsys ankle. Patsy couldn’t feel her feet all that much as the metal clanked away but she was technically mobile right now and that felt good.

Although she was mobile in the same way a burning car was still technically mobile. It was theoretically possible but it wasn’t going to be fun to try out.

“Get up!” Abraham repeated loudly and Patsy tried to do as he asked.

Putting weight on her feet was more agony, the room swam before her eyes as she tried to claw at thin air. Her chest bowed from the weight of the metal inside it.

Impossible.

“All the kings horses and all the kings men.” Patsy didn’t realise that she’d spoken until she heard Abrahams hiss of excitement.

“You will move.” He declared and Patsy laughed. Already falling again.

The floor was fast becoming her only option as she sucked in cold air through her mouth like a fish on land. Abraham seemed to lose patience all at once. He tightened his grip and began to drag Patsy along the floor by the chain.

Patsy groaned, her chest bowed from the force, unable to prevent the movement and swiftly flipped onto her knees. 

The trip to the door was pain as Patsy had never experienced. In self defence her knees began to take the strain properly and she crawled feebly after him; hating him for every breath he took. She vowed to herself that they would be numbered. She would kill him at the end of this. Sometimes the only way to stop a monster was to end it properly. 

When they reached the outer corridor Patsy found this it was unfamiliar to her though she thought they must surly be in the commune somewhere. Outside of the torture chamber the general dungeon atmosphere continued where it could with its mouldy red brick and biting cold draft. 

The effect was somewhat ruined by whoever has stacked small metal dog crates one atop the next on both sides of the corridor though Patsy thought churlishly. They towered messily up toward the high ceiling and left the uneasy instinct that they might topple over at the lightest provocation. 

The hallway outside the room was not designed to be used as a makeshift warehouse and it was claustrophobically full as Abraham and Patsy began to move through it. In between the two piles of cages was a man made galley-way only slim enough to admit one at a time. Patsy felt her heart leap as she tried to find an exit strategy but the moment Abraham took a step forward and blocked the way she knew she wouldn’t find one. She wouldn’t be fast enough to get past him. Too weak to fight him.

The knife hung heavily in her jeans and she focused on it as Abraham tugged mercilessly on the chain again and the force of the hook tugged her ever onwards, half pulling her along on her knees as she vainly tried to keep up with his punishing pace.

They must have looked very strange to any onlookers Patsy thought wildly as she was dragged through the cobbled mass of metal. She didn’t see the eyes staring out at her straight away, didn’t realise there was a watching audience, the pain in her body was just to all encompassing to give her a wider scope of interest. She did not realise that she was not alone in fact until a bony hand shot out in straight in front of her without warning. Cold fingers cupped her cheek so quickly that she forgot herself for a moment and squeaked in surprise. The noise roused Abraham somewhat and he turned to watch as Patsys head turned towards the appendage apprehensively.

The hand was attached to a... Person. Man or woman, young or old it was impossible to tell the details through the thick encrusted dirt. The persons frame was emaciated in the extreme, the dull brown eyes huge in a face that was more skull than living feature. The lips crinkled softly as the mouth opened. 

“Faith.”

Patsy stared in shock as she took in the high stacked crates and disgust filled her. The dark truth of Abrahams endeavours revealed in full. People. There were living people in those crates no bigger than four foot but three. Patsy spied a small circle sprayed near the front of the nearest crate. There was a slash through it that looked sickeningly final. For a moment she opened her mouth to try and say something back to the person. Some word of comfort.

But Abraham had grown bored of her intrigue and jerked the chain impatiently making them rattle in the air as they tightened.

“Move!” He snarled again as Patsys neck was twisted around violently and her chest was pulled inexorably forward. The pain was horrendous, the agonising weight of metal scraping against bone, the feeling of something foreign imposing on her insides. 

They began to step forward again; Abraham tugging insistently every few steps for her to move faster and though Patsy understood that doing so would carry a price as the two of them inched along the tight space she could not stop her eyes from roaming. There were so many souls here; lost and dying one by one.

Twice more hands from nearby reached out to touch her, soft murmurings following their progress directed towards her in the main. Most merely appeared content just to watch her passage in a kind of defeated acceptance. A few didn’t even bother to watch her at all; perhaps they had seen this happen too many times to feel pity for others.

These people merely sat very still, staring at the inside of their cages with glassy, sightless eyes. Those were the souls that had abandoned the husk they inhabited. They would not return to them now. The bodies were merely formalities waiting to be made; on the inside they were already dead. 

As they broke out into a wider patch leading to a flight of steep stairs without crates the hands fell away like so many dying leaved of a sick tree and Patsy felt the rising dred consume her. All the souls. All these innocents she wouldn’t be able to save.

The feeling of failure took her courage and she fell as she reached the first step on the staircase. She couldn’t move her arms anymore. She’d taken too much for too long and her body was finally giving out on her. The hole in her chest burned as the metal rubbed against muscle and bone. Her face throbbed. She felt like she too was dying. She wished it would end soon.

“Move!” Abraham said quietly above her.

Patsy shook her head uselessly trying to convey her inability to do as he asked.

“Can’t.” She croaked lamely as Abraham crouched beside her, his hand reaching around her throat to grip her chin harshly.

“You will move faster or I will drag you.’ Abraham commanded in her ear, his hand squeezing her jaw. ‘I will be... Displeased if I am forced to drag you Patience. After all this time I am disappointed to find that you have grown soft and weak amongst godless people. At this rate I can only assume you have missed our games and are anxious to play more. I do not suffer weaklings well bean. You must remember that at least.” Abraham dropped her face unexpectedly and it fell to the floor before Patsy could hold it up. His voice was indifferent, cold and just as she remembered him best.

Patsy rubbed her cheek on the cool concrete and felt tiny specks of rubble roll under her skin. She was exhausted, she was in so much pain it was hard to think past it but above all she was incensed. The stubborn fifteen year old who believed she could fight the world stalked her mind restlessly. 

This had all happened before in some guise or other but this wasn’t her life anymore. Red fury rose in her as she looked up into his calculated face.

She hated him. She wanted to kill him; kill him for daring to hurt her again, to take those she loved. To simply exist. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him.

Hate at least gave her the strength to move, it filled her, gave her wings, something solid enough to focus her mind. Raising her head from the floor she lifted her chin obstinately a few more inches more to meet his gaze face on. Her mouth was thick with her own blood and she spat it messily on the floor besides his feet watching with satisfaction as his lips curled. 

Flexing her hands was hard, the right was slick with blood and resisted her will while her back only wanted to crumble again as the hooks insidious presence hampered it. Growling in frustration at her own frailty and the madness of her father Patsy grumbled lifting herself back on to all fours and reached for the next step with shaking hands.

The absence of the end of her middle finger was almost more disturbing than everything else. Dark blood dripped down her palms as her body moved ahead in clockwork like ticks.

She felt the hook nudge her ribs but she shuttered away the pain. Locked it deep down to be dealt with once she’d reached her goal.

She was not weak. She would not allow him to make her weak. She wasn’t 11 year old Patience anymore, she was constable Patsy Mount and she could fucking do anything that she set her mind to. She had outrun fires and solitude and trauma. She could manage twenty little stairs. She would manage twenty stairs or she would die trying; failure was not an option. This was a matter of pride now and pride could move mountains. She was superwoman and she wore a red cape.

She didn’t let a sound escape her mouth as she climbed. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t focus on anything but the next step as she panted. Sweat broke out on her back. Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the top so that she could barely see past the tears locked in her eyes but she did reach the top step dammit. Fuck Abraham. She could do anything. She was Patsy Mount. She was a born survivor.

When the two of them finally reached the summit the light around them seemed to increase almost explosively, the bright filaments from the bulbs over head and fresh honest to God sunshine bored into her eyeballs. Blinded her. Patsy collapsed on the new landing, breathing through her nose as she felt her arms stiffen and fold beneath her. Abraham merely began tugging at the chain insistently once more with a huff of irritation; uncaring and unimpressed.

Once she’d adjusted Patsy found that her sweating knees were now sunk into old but expensive carpet. The smell of cooking could be found in the air and she knew, in that second, exactly where she was finally. Home. Her first home. 

They were in the commune alright. 

Patsy cast her face towards the opposite wall and saw familiar cracks, familiar dips in ancient plaster. Once upon a time she’d walked these halls, she’d trailed her fingers along those dips. She’d hidden in cloistered side rooms. The commune had been an old site owned by a rich land owner hundreds of years ago. It’s great stretching vistas of corridors and passages were old. The wounds they prompted in Patsy weren’t quite as old but they still stung.

They were somewhere near the kitchens on the lower floor of her memory was right. Patsy knew where she’d been just before now too, although before this event she’d never actually been down the yawning steps to the naughty rooms. 

When she’d been very small Elizabeth had told her that she shouldn’t go down There; the cellars were where the ‘wicked girls’ went. Patsy had somehow avoided a trip though she’d been threatened with it numerous times. She’d never been certain what kind of crime would garner that punishment; it hadn’t been that clear to her. Sometimes someone’s sins would be so great that the master would drag them down there though. Patsy could remember watching silently as a teenage boy was dragged down there by his feet as he’d clawed at the carpet and screamed for his mother.

That boy hadn’t come back up again. 

Elizabeth had given birth to Chastity down there too; Patsy had noticed her mother getting fatter and fatter almost without consciously doing so, having no concept of how babies were made, until one day Elizabeth had said she felt pain and the next morning she’d been gone. No explanations and no warning. Just gone. Patsy had woken up in the dorms and asked some of the other women where her mother was but no one had told her. Sometimes it would be like that though; Elizabeth would disappear for a few days with Abraham and then she’d come back. Patsy had been forced to wait worriedly but it had been almost a week later when Elizabeth returned with her new baby. 

Elizabeth had wept as her child slept in her arms. “She’s the wrong one.” Was all the reason for her emotion that she’d told Patsy.

Patsy had never once questioned the mandate of where she shouldn’t go as a child; she’d had a healthy respect for some of the older people at least. Now she was pleased that she hadn’t. At least she’d never stepped into that horror show with someone she knew well in it. It was a memory she could have gladly continued to be ignorant of.

She knew too, as Abraham yanked at the chain and she was dragged a few more steps forward, her knees burning against the friction of the carpet, where she was going. She supposed faintly that she should have known where he’d want to end this. They were going to the room he had meant for her to die the first time round. She could picture him planning this in his mind; it was predictably nasty and she was vaguely disappointed in him. 

Did he really think a burned out hulk could scare her? What did a little thing like geography matter right now to Patsy? Dying was dying anywhere.

On they moved; Patsy half crawling to keep up with Abrahams forced march, two silent actors in a silent building except... Patsy pricked up her ears, it wasn’t silent at all. There were noises here. Noises that were out of place. Distant but wrong somehow. A sort of pitter pattering that was foreign in this echoey tomb.

Twice more they found flights of stairs and by the second challenge Patsy couldn’t feel her arms anymore. Abraham dragged her like a child would drag a least considered rag doll. Patsy could barely muster energy to feel ashamed at her weakness.

And then, before Patsy could really grapple the sounds into sense through the throbbing fog in her brain, they were turning into a smaller corridor and Patsy knew they were close to their goal.

She recognised it by the smell of aged charcoal first.

The last time she’d been here she’d walked among fifty condemned others though none of them had known it. She shivered slightly in the colder air and thought blearily that she could sense those same souls following her now. After all, the dead had fallowed her for years, it made sense that they’d be here too. Where it began and ended for them all.

The door to the small room was ahead of them. Abrahams smile was background footage of a scene Patsy wasn’t prepared to join in. Squaring her shoulders she stared at the blistered surface of the wood with an empty expression. If he wanted her to show emotion at this room he would need to try harder. Patsy walked with ghosts every day. Here or there didn’t matter to her. She was strong enough to see this. She would be strong enough for this.

Abraham sniffed faintly as though disappointed in her lack of reaction and lent against the door, his arm pulling the chain harder so that Patsy lurched horribly from the pain to follow him.

Inside the room it was much as Patsy expected it would be. The fire had left it’s mucky finger prints everywhere in it. The ceiling was bleached black as were the walls. The floor was oddly uneven in places and as Patsy fell to knees just inside and was pulled to lay face down on the floor she knew it was the faint remnants of the people who had been trapped in here. 

Ahead of her was the wide window that she’d jumped from all those years ago. She doubted she could manage the trick of a jump twice but she noted it nonetheless with a bittersweet smile. Abraham really had been a busy man she thought bitterly. There were new iron bars across the frame now, bolted securely into the wall with heavy looking metal clasps. He did not intend for Patsy to escape her fate again then.

The rooms interior was different than she recalled. For a start there were three people waiting for them both; two sitting on dark mahogany chairs, mismatched against cheap looking desks. Both of the prisoners had their hands affixed to the tops of their desk by short chains connected to the wood.

With a sinking heart Patsy looked over at Delia and Helen.

Helen looked simply awful. She’d been wearing some kind of dress when she’d been taken by the looks of things... Or she’d been dressed like that for effect. The colour was hard to guess amongst the mass of dirt and patches of dried blood. Her dark face was made darker by large purple bruises, her cheek was cut and still bleeding, her right eye bore the hallmarks of swelling that was only just beginning to repair itself. Her shoulders were slumped low and she was resting her body against the lip of her desk as though it hurt to sit up straight. She looked older in this moment than Patsy had ever seen her. Right now she was frowning down at Patsy in confusion; she didn’t seem to recognise her and Patsy wondered vaguely just how bad she looked. 

How long would Abraham wait for the penny to drop?

Delia sat more rigid in her chair. Her face looked relatively fine if a little grey at the edges, she was still wearing the same clothes she’d worn to meet Patsy at the hospital and bar a small tear in the collar of her shirt she didn’t look very roughed up. Patsys eyes drifted down and noted how she was leaning to the right uncomfortably and wondered if Jessie had told Abraham about Delias hip. It would be an easy way to take her out if you needed to make someone disappear quietly in a public place.

Jessie herself was stood like a macabre guard of honour between the two bound women, her mouth stretching into an ingratiating smile as Abraham pressed the toe of his shoe against Patsys leg.

“All is well my dearest Jessica.” Abraham murmured sweetly over Patsys body and Jessie licked her lips in anticipation.

“We can begin whenever you’re ready Master.” 

“Jess’ Delia cut in abruptly; looking at Jessica in shocked incredulity. ‘You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to end like this; this isn’t you. I know you and this isn’t you.”

Jessica’s eyes hardened and without a word she gripped Delia by the hair and slammed her face savagely against the desk. Something crunched as she dragged Delia back up and blood began to spurt from the Welsh womans nose.

“I told you to be quiet. I told you what would happen if you didn’t do as I said days ago Deels. You brought this on yourself.” She hissed viciously and confused tears pooled in Delias eyes as she tried in vain with the too short chains restraining her hands to cup her smarting face.

“Pats!’ Helens voice was a moan as recognition flared in her eyes, she hadn’t been watching Delia as she tried to puzzle out who the newcomer was and now the chains around her wrists rattled agitatedly against wood. ‘Patsy, is that really you? My God what’s he done to you.” The fear and revulsion in her voice was almost Patsys undoing.

Their eyes met and Patsy felt the tears she’d been holding back fall as she took in her mothers terror. Helens palpable fear mirrored her own and seemed to amplify the situation until it was a physical weight pressing down on her chest as panic of what would happen next suffused her mind. So great was the feeling of hopelessness that Patsy was forced to look away. She couldn’t give in to it yet. She couldn’t see Helen die. She couldn’t lose Helen.

There might still be hope if she looked hard enough.

The foot against her leg nudged her pointedly again as Abrahams relaxed drawl filled the room.

“My daughter and I have been having a rather fortuitous reunion Ms Shipman. I did not wish to bring her to you in any less fine condition than when you first received her. In fact-‘ Abraham stepped away from Patsy his arm outstretched as he proffered something in his hand towards Helen. ‘I have brought you a gift. A token of my daughters gratitude; I believe your sort do enjoy them.”

He waved the end of Patsys severed finger towards Helen who squinted at it for a moment before realising what it was and turning pale. For a moment she swayed where she sat. She looked as though she was trying not to vomit.

“Oh Patsy.” She moaned, her eyes squeezing back more tears.

“Don’t you like my gift Helen? It’s rude not to say thank-you you know. Mister manners is a guest we can all appreciate after all.” Abraham was enjoying it all too much. His amusement was nails on a blackboard. Jessies head turned between them both like a dog following a game of tennis.

“You’re a sick twisted man.” Helen hissed, her voice ragged as she blinked furiously up at Abraham. 

Abrahams smile faltered and his eyes narrowed.

“Your sort always say that. God has told me of your sins little Helen.” As he spoke he curled his hand into a fist, preparing to strike Helen for her insolence. 

Patsy spat blood on the carpet and forced herself to speak hurriedly; unwilling to watch Helen take another blow for her sake.

“D-Don’t worry Helen.’ Patsy forced her lips into a rictus as blood squeezed between her teeth and dripped onto her chin. ‘My dicks still bigger than his.”

Jessie made an angry yowl of protest and made to step forward, pulling something small free from an inside pocket of her jacket but Abraham raised a warning hand telling her to be still and she returned to her previous position scowling at Patsy with utter hatred in her eyes. Abraham, the pendulum of his madness swinging faster and faster between lovable wrong ‘un and psychopathic rage, laughed loudly. The laugh was all wrong, the notes an uneven reedy thing that made the hairs on Patsys arms stand up in protest.

“Very clever Patience. Shall I cut more off then? Are you asking for more pain?” His voice was a sweet threat that held no possibility of not following through.

Patsy felt her mouth thin as she struggled for breath on the floor but she knew that any answer would be foolish in the extreme; her body warned her she couldn’t take much more. To her shame she didn’t speak but she didn’t look away either. Defiance was all she had left now and by God she wouldn’t give it up until her last breath. 

Abraham laughed again and turned towards Delia now who blanched as he looked down at her.

“And what about you sweetest little Delia?’ He waved the finger so close to her face he smeared blood against her ear, ‘from what I understand you enjoyed it the last time.”

Delia twitched under his laughter and turned to look at Patsy with round terrified eyes. Patsy wished she could do something to comfort the woman. The bite of guilt was hard to ignore. Patsy should have let herself remain on the beach. She should not have allowed Delia anywhere near her.

Boom!

The whole room seemed to shake on its foundations as something loud struck some outer wall. Everyone looked around in surprise and Jessies hand flew back to her pocket and withdrew the thing she’d been fiddling with before. Patsy saw the flash of metal before she realised it was a gun. 

She didn’t know much about guns, police didn’t use them and she wasn’t a fan of mechanised murder. She couldn’t understand the need some people had to possess something designed so completely to harm. They were designed to kill people. This one was small with a wooden handle. It could still kill people.

“What was that?” Jessie asked in a tense voice looking at the door and Abraham followed her interest blankly for a moment before shaking himself.

“I... I do not know.’ He said with the briefest hint of uncertainty that was gone before it could settle into his demeanour. ‘Attend to whatever it is quickly and return here after you are done. I am growing impatient to begin. Oh,’ Abraham spoke as though he had only just thought of it but Patsy had been watching his eyes, which had not left the gun since it had been withdrawn, as Jessie sprang to life and began walking towards the door. ‘Your weapon, give it to me.”

Jessie froze halfway to the door and looked down at her hand in confusion.

“My gun?” She seemed reluctant to give up her one source of threat but Abraham opened and closed his open palm expectantly and she appeared unable to resist his will.

“Now!” He ordered sharply and Jessie flinched before handing it over and hurriedly leaving the room in a buzz of activity.

The gun now in Abrahams hand looked too small for him. A child’s toy in the hands of a man. He slid his index finger behind the trigger and Patsy imagined him doing it countless times in front of a mirror over the course of his life. He’d feel powerful with a gun in his hand. Weak people always did.

He smiled lewdly towards Patsy who spat out another mouthful of blood on the floor. The air around her was becoming strangely hazy, the situation was harder and harder to focus on as her body fought to continue functioning against the backlog of injuries that were still bleeding copiously.

“Say what you like Patience but this is truly what I call a party.” He taunted causally as his foot struck out and nudged the hook to wedge it a little deeper. Patsy curled up tightly to hide the groan bitten down and took the opportunity while her hands were hidden out of sight underneath her body to touch the knife in her jeans again. The solid feel of it gave her some mixture of courage and torment as she forced herself to remain in the present.

“You’ll be alright Pats. Stay with us.” Delias voice drifted through the fog; scared but recalcitrant. Abraham was watching Delia with evident amusement.

“My... Associate asked of me the gift of killing you personally little Delia. Dear dear me, it seems that there really is nothing like a woman scorned is there.”

“Jess-Jess wouldn’t do that.” Delia argued in a high pitched voice that made Abraham laugh harder and Patsy wince.

“Tut tut sweet thing, but I’m afraid that she will. I do believe she has the most exquisite plans for your end or so she’s told me.’ He sighed wistfully. ‘Jessica does enjoy her work; I much suspect that she’s trying to impress me.” He spoke with the same lack of emotion he’d shown as he’d cut off Patsys finger. The man wouldn’t know empathy if he found it sitting in his pyjamas eating his dinner.

Delias chest began to jackknife up and down as her panic overwhelmed her.

“Don’t listen to him girl.’ Helen was looking at the wood of the desk in front of her, her voice calm and measured. ‘He’s just a weakling trying to posture. I’ve met plenty of them in my lifetime; save your tears for someone who deserves them.”

Abrahams hand whirred through the air and Patsy wasn’t quick enough this time to stop it. His palm connected with Helens throat and Helen rolled to her side winded.

“Do you think you are stronger than me nigger?” Abraham spat, suddenly thunderous as he wiped his hand on his jacket as if it was contaminated. Helen gasped and gripped the edge of the table, trying to right herself.

“I know I’m stronger than you.” She said through wheezes and Abraham laughed cruelly, his finger stroking the trigger as he aimed the gun at Helens face.

“Did you feel like a saint raising my bastard brat Helen? Did she make your wretched existence feel like a snippet of meaning.”

“She isn’t yours.’ Helen did not turn to Abraham, she met Patsys eyes fiercely across the room, ‘she was never yours. She’s my daughter and I have never been prouder to call her it. She beat you once. She’ll beat you again.”

“You think so.” Abraham cackled madly and hit her again. This time Helen had the sense of mind to stay down, coughing as her forehead pressed into the wood.

Abraham turned on the spot. His face lit with a golden glow as he raised his arms like a ringmaster in a circus show.

“Well Patience... I suppose your mummy can die first can’t she? Then she’ll understand what happens to those who cross me.”

The gun raised in the air and Patsy felt her mouth open in a scream of pain as it aimed towards Helens slumped back.

No!

Crash.

The door opened violently, smashing into the wall and bringing through its opened face the sounds of something mechanical and regular pounding against one another.

“Master!’ Jessie was back in the room, her face one of fear now as she hurried inside to stand in front of Delia panting. Her urgency was only for Abraham. ‘The police are inside the building we must evacuate immediately. We have to go.”

“Inside the building?’ Abraham asked with a surprising amount of amused arrogance for a man who’s escape was dwindling away from him by the second. ‘What joke is this? Calm yourself, they will not take us. They have no power greater than my own.”

“Yes but even so.’ Jessie was wringing her hands nervously, ‘we must leave Master. Now. While they are distracted with the others. We must escape; just kill them all if you have to and let us leave.”

From somewhere far away there was a faint deepening of gunshots. It was subtle but in the sudden chilling silence of the room everyone sensed it. Somewhere another door had been breached. 

Hope set Patsys heart pounding. Cavalry. Help. Ursula or Phyllis or someone was on their way. They might be saved yet.

Abraham himself seemed to be coming to the same conclusion but there was no pleasure to be found in his handsome features only thinly restrained fury at finding himself so close to his goal of utterly destroying Patsy and yet having his plans scuppered by others. He was no longer sole decider of events and it could not be clearer that he would be unable to hold onto his mask of control for much longer.

Slowly the barrel of the gun lifted and swayed in the air as he fought with himself. Patsy watched with bleary eyes as the open hole at the end of the muzzle aimed at her face.

“No.’ Abraham hissed between thinning lips. ‘I have waited too long to give up this one thing. I will follow my plan to the letter. I will have justice.”

“Master!’ Jessie wailed the word in a pointless high pitched plea for sanity to a man who had never been sane. ‘We must go. Please Master; we will be taken! Let us run, we can start again together. A team.”

The barrel hesitated again before swinging this way and that at Patsy. Aiming towards her face and then her chest, her stomach, her groin, her legs, as though Abraham was trying to find a spot that would elicit the most pain.

“No... Not yet.” Abraham said again, only to himself now, his eyes never leaving Patsys.

“Master! Master please, please let us leave while there’s still ti-“

The gun fired loudly in the swelling, fetid silence. Abrahams eyes did not leave Patsys for a moment as a slow, angelic smile graced his perfect mouth.

“I said no Jessica.” He whispered in a voice of deadly calm. His breathing was so even he might be reclining gently in a sun lounger somewhere. 

The smell of gun powder and hot metal drifted towards Patsy, who after a slow battle with herself, turned to look to her right. 

Jessie wasn’t quite dead yet although from the look of the newly hewn, reddening, flowering wound it was only a matter of time. Abraham had shot her directly in the throat and blood was even now spilling down her front in great heaving tides of red. For a moment the dark haired woman stood swaying where she was, her mouth opening and closing in shock perhaps or maybe it was an attempt at speech. No words came out though. There would be no great final words from Jessie it seemed as, without grace or aplomb, she fell backwards; like a sofa bed folding up one awkward bolt at a time.

She’d been stood in front of Delia when she’d been shot and it was across Delias desk that she now slumped in a twitching mass of dying nerve cells as blood continued to pour from her throat. The bullet must have severed the carotid artery; catastrophic trauma like that would give her minutes at very best, the loss of oxygen would kill her even faster than the blood loss.

“No!’ Delia was desperately trying to pull her hands against Jessies pulsing neck, the chains that bound her were just long enough to reach across the tiny divide where Jessie spasmed, all colour draining from her face as the extremities gave up and she gasped for air that she would not find. ‘Jess! Jess! You’ve shot her! Jess, don’t die!”

Besides Delia at the next desk Helen had turned to watch the scene too but there was no pity in her eyes for the dying woman. She’d been here over seven days in Jessie’s company; by all probability Jessie herself may have tortured her. Perhaps Helen did not believe Jessie deserved her pity.

Delia was weeping in panic and shocked grief as she tried to stem the blood that would not stop coming. From the sudden stilling of Jessies body Patsy guessed that she was already dead. Delia seemed to have realised it to because she gripped the fabric of Jessies jacket more tightly and shook her in desperation.

“Jess!” She was screaming, her voice hoarse and terrible.

A small bubble bobbed up to the surface of the slowing blood in Jessies neck and popped loudly. Jessie did not move again. Delia sobbed uselessly.

“Silence!” Abrahams irritable baritone made Patsys head snap back towards him immediately. There was murder in his voice as he glared at Delia and all Patsy could think was; no, not them, kill me, kill only me. 

If Abraham was busy watching her die, if Patsy could just hold on for as long as humanely possible then perhaps that might buy Delia and Helen a few more minutes. A few more precious opportunities for help to arrive. For someone to stop him.

Delias moans lessened at once into feeble hiccups as she held Jessie in her arms and Abraham watched her with undisguised glee at her sufferings.

“Did you love her my dear Delia? Poor little misguided Jessica?’ Abrahams voice was honeyed malice. ‘Do not fear my dearest one. You will follow her very soon; very soon indeed.”

The gun was drifting away from Patsy again, towards Delia and Patsy knew she must do something soon. The gun fights growl was coming closer and closer by the second now but it was still too far away to save them.

In a burst of urgency Patsys hands shot to the fastening of her jeans, ready to pull out the knife. Her hands were slippery with her own blood, her arms impossibly weak as she fumbled at the stiff material, teasing it loose.

She’d tried to be covert but Abraham seemed to sniff the rebellion in the air and turned back towards Patsy, the gun veering away from Delia as he became distracted.

Patsy looked up as he turned and under his extended arm her eyes found Helens from across the room. In that moment of connection Patsy tried to convey everything she had never had the courage to tell the woman; how much she loved her, how proud she was that Helen had chosen her as a daughter. How very much she regretted what was about to happen.

So fast that Patsys blood poor brain almost missed it; Helen winked and then she did something that Patsy never would have believed possible of her.

Helen opened her mouth as wide as it would go and screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed at an octave so high that it made everyone in the room jump in surprise. Abraham swivelled where he stood to glare at Helen, his teeth bared in frustration and anger. 

It happened in a snatched second, just long enough for Abraham to take his focus off of Patsy in his moments confusion curtesy of Helens theatrics. Patsy spotted the infinitesimal loosening of his fingers on the trigger of the gun and knew she would have no more opportunities; she lunged forward the knife cradled in her aching hand. The bite of the hook was an untold agony in her chest but her focus was all on the knife and of Abrahams leg before her. The blade whispered through the air like a prayer just as Abraham seemed to sense his mistake. His hand tightened again reflexively.

But he was too late.

Patsy plunged the knife through the back of his knee and felt a strange crunching sensation as the cartilage there give way to the weight of her body pressing down on it as she fell heavily against the hilt. 

Abraham screamed in sudden paroxysms and tugged at the chain in his hand to blindly drive away his attacker but Patsy had expected that and was already ready for him. Gritting her teeth together to try and block out the blinding blackness behind her eyes she twisted the blade as far as it would go feeling something inside his knee give way and the leg begin to collapse in on itself.

Abrahams arms jerked high in the air, the finger on the trigger tightened without him willing it and there was another deafening bang as a bullet fired safely away into the ceiling that caved in at his facile shot. Abraham fell in a twirling graceful arc, an earthed Angel thrown out of heaven, surrounded by choking plaster board. Patsy felt her grip loosen on the knife against the outpouring of so much spurting blood from the newly formed wound. Her grip already weak from fatigue and blood loss and the missing gap where her middle fingers tip had been.

All around her chaos was erupting like small pockets of gas in a suddenly former dormant volcano.

“The key! Get the key! It’s in her pocket I saw it!”

“I can’t- she’s dying!”

“Hurry up! Hurry up girl!”

The sound of scrabbling, legs and feet banging on wood and the floor and mumbled white noise that was more unintelligible shouting rent the calm air in two. Patsy was blind to it all, blind to the other twos frantic escapes, as Abraham fell heavily onto her exposed back and wrenched the chain to drag her underneath him with a murderous snarl.

Together they crumpled in a messy jumble of limbs. Patsy felt his hot breath fall against her chest as something metal gleamed to her left. Gun. She flung out an arm weakly and flapped it away. There was another loud bang again as the gun fired for a third time. Patsy had just a moment to recognise a fresh pain in her side before Abraham was on her. His hands clawing towards her throat, his mouth open in a toothy howl of rage.

Patsy fumbled desperately for the knife again and somehow managed to pull it free of Abrahams leg only to have it knocked away immediately by a sharp jab of an elbow. The knife spun far far far away from her grip towards the opposite wall as Abraham reached his goal and began to grip her by the throat. Strangling her. She felt the uncomfortable tightness in her chest as he squeezed mercilessly against her windpipe, his arms straight out in front of him as he pressed all of his weight onto her neck.

“No.’ He hissed, spittle and bile flying between them. ‘It will not end this way. Not this way Patience.”

The need to breathe was everything; overwhelmingly strong as he continued to choke her. Patsy gasped through the tightening loss, her arms flailing uselessly, her weakened hand sliding away from his face like water on rock.

The edges of her vision were blurring now. The smell of his skin was all that she could sense.

In a blind panic Patsy struck out with her knife filled boot and hit something that felt like bone. Abrahams hands loosened as suddenly as they had tightened while he howled his pain. Patsy muzzily scraped the blade further down whatever it was that she’d managed to hit, forcing her boot to remain as flush as it could to the object, the knife tip bored down into his flesh and ripped it apart as the pair of them thrashed around on the floor.

In retaliation Abrahams knee rose up and knelt against the hook. Patsys whole body jerked in agony as Abraham spat at her and the warm saliva hit Patsys cheek and mingled with the sweat and blood already there. Patsy bared her own teeth in reply and tried to unseat his slackened grip on her throat but it was already squeezing again as he panted excitedly above her.

Thumbs. Break the grip of the thumbs. Thumbs. Patsys brain was circling uselessly but she was so weak. So infuriatingly exhausted as she lifted her arms up again for another attempt at futility.

She was barely holding on to any semblance of will power she had left as she tried to wedge a thumb beneath his. She’d lost so much blood, her fingers were feeble against the sheer weight of Abraham; the force of his hatred and his intent. 

All he did was squeeze harder.

She was half crazed with the need for oxygen. Spots of light were flashing behind her eyes as she felt her hands slip away to fall at her sides. She didn’t have the energy to try and move them again. She couldn’t seem to feel his hands anymore, couldn’t lift her arms high enough to save herself. 

He was banging her head against the floor but the pain was a letter dropped in an abandoned house. He was squeezing the life out of her as she lay motionless and fading beneath him.

The darkness was a thickening void all around her, her vision was thinning until only his face was visible, only his hateful features were before her and they too were fading. The pain was a dying ember in a burnt out hearth and she wasn’t strong enough to push him away. She was just in pain. Dying. Again.

So... Tired. Exhausted really, her eye-lids began to droop; unwilling for the last thing she saw to be him. Patsy was so tire-

Something flashed through the air, serpentine quick and caught Abraham around the neck. His head snapped back in shock as strong arms lifted him away.

And then the hands were gone. Abraham was gone. Perhaps everything she had ever known was gone. Perhaps she was gone. 

The all consuming weight of Abraham was ripped away from her violently as Patsy tried to breathe past the swelling blockage of pain in her throat.

“Not my daughter!” 

There was a croaking noise, a hiss and then a crunch. The air swooshed somewhere to Patsys left. 

A body hit the floor as what was left of a dark mahogany chair hovered uncertainly in the air gripped in Delias shaking hands. Poised to strike again.

Abraham stared up at a ceiling he could no longer see, the side of his head crumpled up with the force of the blow that had killed him. Dead.

Helen dropped the chain hanging between her fingers. Her hands were shaking as she disregarded the dead man laying in front of her and half fell towards the slumped body beside his.

Patsy.

Patsy was only aware of noises. So so tired. 

“Pats, sweetheart open your eyes. Can you open your eyes.”

So dark. It had always been dark and Patsy had spent years pushing it away but the darkness never went far away. Always stealing hours that weren’t ever meant for her.

“She’s not breathing Helen. We need to start CPR.”

“Can’t we take out the hook. It’s hurting her.”

“It’s blocking the bleed as much as it can. Trust me; don’t pull it. Quick, I need you to take over the breaths.”

“She’s already bleeding so much.”

“Helen! Breaths! Now.”

“Pats, you stay with me my girl.”

Patsy felt the darkness engulf her again. Crushed under the pull of all the Old tides calling her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late/early in the morning update. It was supposed to be earlier but we had a storm and my cat got really scared so I had to be his thunder buddy instead of editing this thing. (He’s fine now, sleeping at the end of the bed with his little safety pillow)
> 
> So... It’s all coming to an end now kids. Just tying up loose ends, getting the plot lined up all pretty. Abes dead, ding dong, villagers rejoice. I realise we all wanted him to have a prolonged death but I didn’t want to tarnish the other characters by stopping them to his level if you know what I mean. 
> 
> As for Jessie. Well. Is it weird that I have a slight regret for her death?
> 
> SB


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take each other for better or for worse  
> I love you so much, it hurts  
> I'll be there when your hair turn gray  
> I'll be there when your hair turn gray
> 
> Seasick Steve - Underneath a blue and cloudless sky.

Patsy stood on cool sand, the rush of wind a delicate caress in her once again long hair. She blinked out to sea, spotting far off dots of light winking on and off. Even further away there could be glimpsed a dimly lit boat that hooted dolefully, the shine of its hull a mild glint in the twilight. She felt calm, a flooding sensation of restfulness spreading along her extremities. A pleasant warmth. 

Here was a good place, a soft place to rest a while, she had been tired before hadn’t she? It was all so long ago. Unimportant...

Flexing her arms Patsy became aware of the blessed way that there was no pain. No more pain. She had been hurting before hadn’t she? The thought was fleeting and not important. She disregarded it as the cut of the sand caught her eye and distracted her. The sand was black. Inquisitively Patsy knelt down and tried to scoop a handful of silky grains into her palm for closer inspection but found that she couldn’t. Try as she might the sand seemed to melt through her fingers like candy floss dipped in water. The air itself was a sweet anaesthetic. Patsy smiled, faintly enchanted and slowly looked down the beach trying to place where she was. A beach. She knew this beach, the dark monoliths of stone and dune. Poplar... But not Poplar.

And she was not alone she realised with warming pleasure. Finally. She was not alone. She was not alone in this place.

She had been lonely before this hadn’t she? Hadn’t she? The memories slipped through her fingertips as fragile the sand they touched. Unimportant.... Unimportant?

Patsy stared ahead of her blankly in puzzlement as something vague poked at her mind. Something... Something was wrong? But here nothing could be wrong? Here was a soft place... Wasn’t it?

Someone was walking towards her coming in the direction that she stared. The outline seemed to waver and burst into solidity as it drew nearer. Strange but not scary. Patsy found that she had no fear left in her in this place. Here there was no such thing as fear.

Soft place, soft...

Patsy recognised the features of the figure striding towards her, the long recalled small body. The sweetest of faces. Same but not. Half of something kind and good. Her little sister hadn’t worn Patsys chains. She hadn’t been tainted from the first.

Patsy hurried across the sand that puffed up and faded with her movements leaving no footprints, excitement flooding her chest, making her breathing ragged and strange. After all this time... It had been so long now, how long she had wanted this and how odd that this meeting didn’t hurt as much as she had always thought it would.

She had imagined pain. Imagined... Unimportant things now. Unimportant.

“Chas... Chastity?” Patsys voice was a strange echo in the quiet delta of sand that seeemed to ring as it hit the dark expanse of stone beside them and off the very sand itself to rebound back around them. Like a chant. A psalm.

Chastity... Chas... Chast....

Chastity looked up into Patsys eyes warmly as they slowed to stand facing one another and then she smiled. Slowly, sadly, her red hair fluttering in a non existent breeze, her brown eyes light and friendly. She looked different Patsy thought with a swell of disappointment. In fact she seemed almost a stranger to Patsy; wrong somehow. Patsy squinted trying to reason why and decided that it was the way Chas looked so well. It was wrong. Patsy could not recall one single memory when the girl had appeared so whole, so relaxed and untroubled. There were no bruises here and there had used to be so many bruises once upon a time. This new Chastity looked vibrant, clean to the point of almost glowing and sad... Sad?

But here was a soft place... Here was a place to be happy. But something was wrong.

Patsy reached out to touch her sisters shoulder with just the smallest nudge of her little finger just as they had used to do in cramped bible studies. Their secret code. It had been so long ago since the last time she’d done it but now she found that she couldn’t do it at all. Just like the sand, her thoughts, Patsys hand seemed to freeze as she was about to make contact with the dainty shoulder. Just beyond her reach.

Chastity smiled a little wider and shook her head. The movement was oddly done. Like her head was floating. Ethereal.

“What is it?’ Patsy asked and the echos returned around them; what... what is... is it it it. ‘Do you want me to go with you?” Want me to... Go... me to go... You... with you.

Smiling still Chastity nodded enthusiastically and turned to walk away gesturing in another eeryily position jerk of her wrist for her to follow. Patsy did so unhurriedly. She had no reason to fear Chastity. The time for fear was over now.

They walked for what felt like a very long time. Or it could have been no time at all. Time wasn’t a guest in this place, it was impossible to tell.

The scenery didnt seem to be changing much; Patsy frowned as they walked on and on and thought that it reminded her in part of an old cartoon. The same maid and pot plant repeated infinitely on a winding loop. Chastity seemed to know where she was going though and Patsy tried not to worry too much. 

After another space of existence Chastity seemed to slow, her face searching the horizon expectantly. Pasty copied her, certain that they were waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. It was just them in the quiet lull of the beach. 

Nothing happened for a long time. Twice Patsy stopped to look behind her and saw only blank sand. No footsteps marked their passage but on both occasions when she’d turned Chastity had been waiting for her, beckoning with urgency and they’d walked together again. 

It was only when Patsy was seriously considering turning back just out of boredom did the scene change. The horizon seemed to split out and widen, the craggy cliffs and boulders thinned out to make way for a rolling expanse of nothing. There really was nothing there. Only sand and... Someone.

There was someone else walking towards them from far away in the distance. Patsy could hardly make it out at first but Chastity seemed to recognise the figure at once because she waved happily. Patsy cocked her head to try and squint at the shape as it neared. It was moving very slowly.

It was a while before she realised that she’d known the person who was approaching, though not nearly well as she’d often wished she had. A woman. A short, handsome woman of indeterminate years. 

Elizabeth Mount had been little more than a skeleton when they’d last seen each other. Her eyes had been blank and grey back then, her hair a fading suggestion of colour, her demeanour that of the severely beaten. The Elizabeth Mount who walked over to them now, who picked up Chastity and spun her high in the air in greeting and smiled benignly at the world in general wasn’t any Elizabeth Patsy had ever known. The vision of mother and daughter played out before her made her heart shiver with a lamb of some long squashed longing. Elizabeth hadn’t really loved Patsy like she’d loved Chastity and they’d both known it. Deep down.

This woman looked more like the photograph Patsy had on her coffee table. She was youngish, her mousy hair healthy, a slight pouch in her cheeks that said she ate well now. She looked well. She looked much like Patsy had always wanted her to look. 

Their eyes met as Elizabeth deposited Chastity on the sand. Patsy felt her throat tighten as she looked into the face she had never been able to find in her own. They were more than strangers, less than kin.

“Hello.” Patsy said shyly, not sure quite what to say to her.

Elizabeth seemed to understand some of her confusion because she tilted her head slightly, her face equally torn but she didn’t speak. Perhaps she couldn’t like Chas. She didn’t come closer to Patsy as Chastity had done, she didn’t seem to want to.

Patsy hesitated where she stood. Tongue tied in a place that was quiet and still as the grave. 

“Well it’s about time!’ Another voice rang out loudly from above her. Alive with mischief. ‘We’ve all been hanging around here for bleeding ages. Thought you were never going to show up.”

Patsy blinked slowly and looked around in swirling confusion, searching for the source of the voice. Familiar. She knew that voice very well. Then the mystery faded as a laughing woman jumped down from a rocky crop to land lightly just in front of Patsy, her purple dress billowing around her pale legs magnificently.

But that was wrong Patsy thought to herself in an internal suspicious whisper even as she stared at the vision before her placidly. There was no wind here. No dress should move like that, certainly not that familiar purple dress that had always hung a little heavily anyways and the landing had been wrong too. Too... Easy, too light. She had jumped almost ten feet and yet she’d stepped onto the sand like she was floating. Like the fall didn’t matter anymore.

It wasn’t natural.

“You can talk then?’ Patsy enquired rather rudely, not bothering to greet Valerie with too much enthusiasm. Old habit. They didn’t do reams of affection. Besides; none of this felt real. These people had been dead. Val was dead. And yet Val was right here, watching her with a curious smile on her face.

But was it Val?

It certainly looked a lot like Val; the dark makeup, the dress, the hair. But it was wrong somehow. The picture held a million question marks Patsy couldn’t explain. Just like Chas. Just like Elizabeth. The images were off somehow; more like the way Patsy liked to imagine them than how they truly had been. The girlish Valerie who was even now shooting her a coquettish smirk was different to the Valerie Dyer Patsy had loved. She looked too relaxed, there were no dark circles under her eyes, she looked younger. Free. The real Valerie Dyer has certainly never looked at Patsy with anything like genuine pleasure. Like she was happy to see her.

“Talk?’ Val said with a conspiratorial wink, ‘course I can talk, why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

“They can’t.’ Patsy pointed to her family who had stopped walking when she did and were now stood frozen a few feet away, they’re faces oddly blank as though a light had been turned off when Patsys attention diverted from them. Side by side and staring.

“Oh them,’ Val said with an airy wave of her hand towards Elizabeth without looking at the pair. ‘They can’t speak. It’s been too long. Your mind can’t recall how they would sound anymore. They’ve... Faded.”

Patsy filed this comment under ‘nonsensical Mumbo Jumbo.’

“So.’ Patsy said slowly, her brain was a creaking machine that resisted her entreaties to work properly. ‘So this is a kind of dream is that it? We’re in my mind?”

“Kind of.’ Val nodded encouragingly. ‘What do you remember about before this?”

Patsy considered this question very carefully while Chastity tapped her foot slowly against the unyielding floor and rested her pale cheek against Elizabeth’s hip calmly. Patient as the grave.

There was a murky bank of memories wedged in the back of Patsys brain. They seemed to shiver as she poked at them; like a feral dog. She knew that she didn’t want to see them replayed. There was too much pain there. Pain.

“I... I was in pain I think.’ Patsy ventured in a strange wavering voice. ‘I think I was dying. Abraham’ something flickered behind Vals eyes at the word that reminded Patsy of that pain. A feeble echo. ‘Abraham. He tried to kill me didn’t he?” Patsy looked to Val for confirmation.

“I told you that being a hero doesn’t work out like the stories didn’t I.’ Val said softly, her smile fading even though her lips didn’t stop their curve. ‘Remember I said you shouldn’t aim so high? It gets you killed that kind of thing. You were very brave though Pats. We were watching.”

“But you’re not real.’ Patsy argued confusedly, not understanding what was happening. ‘You’re just voices in my head aren’t you. None of this is actually real. You’re dead. I saw your body in the morgue. I saw... They’re dead too.” Patsy looked furtively at Chastity and Elizabeth, she remembered fire and shuddered with a memory of old pain again. 

“You’re not quite right. It is both real and not real.’ Val shrugged ruefully. ‘It’s sort of hard to explain.”

“Am I dead?” Patsy asked without fear. It was impossible to feel afraid while they stood speaking so calmly. In this soft place without pain.

“No.” Val said quickly but she didn’t sound completely certain and Patsy frowned. Not reassured at all.

“Am I going to die then?”

“Technically everyone’s going to die one day Pats.” Val was looking supremely uncomfortable now as Chastity sprung out into unexpected action. 

It was almost as though the child sensed Vals confusion or Patsys growing frustration. Chastity began hopping over the sand in graceful tiny leaps, dancing her way towards Patsy, her arms raised above her head as though she was a ballerina on top of a strange jewellery box. 

She’d loved dancing in the commune when she was a toddler, she’d squealed excitedly as she spun in the dust of the dormitories most days, even the coldest crone had found it sweet. Until Abraham had broken both her ankles to make her stop at least. Then the urge to dance had failed. It had been too painful for everyone.

“Right...’ Patsy began stallingly, keeping her sister in the corner of her eye. ‘You’re not actually being that much of help right now you know Val.”

Chastity was coming really close now, her body twirling gracefully as she moved silently along the dark sand. 

“Well-“ Val began uneasily but her words were suddenly drowned by a gust of wind so strong that it made the newly grown hair on Patsys hair flap around her face and cover her face.

She saw only darkness. 

Through the dark cover of her hair Patsy saw a strange image. Like a film projected onto a blank wall; a white plastic wall. And something inhuman was wailing. Shrieking so loudly on the breath of the wind that it blocked the beach out momentarily.

So loud. Sirens. Why? Was there an emergency?

“-dysrhythmic- intubated on scene, pulse weak and thready.’ A deep disembodied voice spoke so loudly it was like it was screaming in her ear. ‘BP is holding at 63/48; hypotensive, GSW to superior and dorsal of the pelvic cavity. Extensive bleeding observed in thoracic region, inferior to the bronchioles. Foreign body embedded in left lung. Will need OR team prepped. Advise Kamilat patients resps are circling the drain. She’s on 100% 02. Bagged up. ETA fifteen minutes. She’s a fighter Kate, let’s give her best chance. Pete said she’d saved a few hundred back there. Place looked like a horror show.”

“Advised. Will let Kamilat know. Keep her going Griff.”

“Will do-“

Then the wind was gone as quickly as it had come. The words snatched away from her as calm returned. Patsy spat out strands of hair that had caught in her mouth to blink around her, finding only the endless beach and her family. And Val who was continuing on in her speech like she’d not heard the voices at all.

“-It’s like this you see;’ Val said easily, ‘you could be dead or you could not be dead. It’s... Tricky. Technically you should be dead see but... Not yet.”

“Not yet?’ Patsy looked at Chastity who was swaying in front of her, her eyes unfocused. ‘So what happens now? Do we just stay here and wait?”

“Ahh,’ Val hesitated delicately ‘I’m not sure how to put it properly. I’m sorry about this, I sort of know only what you know.’ Val raised her fingers to her mouth distractedly and bit at a nail while she tried to find the right explanation. ‘It’s a bit like- You’ve heard of near death experiences right?”

“As in ‘don’t go into the light’?” Patsy offered as Chastity sped up swaying in front of her, the movement was hard to ignore. What was more Patsys heart seemed to be beating with the sways, keeping a harsh tempo that made her suck in more air.

“Exactly like that.’ Val nodded happily. ‘Chorus’s of angels, long tunnels, a big door opening far away, all that kind of thing. Well, this is a bit like that only you’re standing on an edge and no one knows if you’ll fall or not see. That’s why we’re here. Just in case.”

Patsy stared at Val over Chastity’s bobbing head. The dancing was starting to scare her a little. Chas didn’t look like she was even aware that she was doing it. She wished she’d slow down a little.

“Hang on,’ Patsy raised an admonishing finger over Chastity’s shoulder as a thought occurred to her from out of the blue, ‘you guys are my welcoming committee? What about the angels?”

“What about them?” Val asked blithely. Patsy opened and shut her mouth a few times. Trying to think of something tactful to reply.

“Well... Aren’t there supposed to be some.”

“We’re dead aren’t we?’ Val shrugged again, ‘what were you expecting? Tinsel halos and a bed sheet sewn up badly.”

“Well, yeah, sort of.” Patsy said sheepishly, embarrassed despite herself. There wasn’t so much as a bloody harp in the background. It was so disheartening.

“You saved a few people Pats you didn’t cure cancer, let’s be reasonable about this. Besides,’ Val sniffed, ‘those angels aren’t what you’d expect. The fourteen heads and forked tails are a freak show. There’s a reason they always start off yelling be not afraid when they show up to major events. It’s not for the faint hearted.”

“Forked tails...’ Patsy repeatedly weakly before shaking her head to clear away the cobwebs that seemed to be forming over her brain. ‘What are you talking about, is that what it’s like then? Up there. Val, tell me, what happens when you die anyway?”

“Ahh, Pats you know I can’t tell you that.” Val ducked her head apologetically.

“Why? Why not?” For some reason Patsy was suddenly eager to know everything, she was tired of mysteries. She wanted all the answers for once.

“It’s... it’s different for everyone.’ Val spoke as though every word was being ripped from her with reluctance. ‘The only way you’ll find out is to walk the journey.” Val looked over her shoulder towards the wide plains of nothing that stretched as far as the eye could see behind her. There didn’t appear to be an end to it. 

“Walk? For how long, where does it end?” Patsy wondered who the hell was in charge of this mess. It was unsatisfactorily disorganised.

“Who knows?’ Val said it easily, as though the answer was of no real consequence. ‘It’s the journey that counts I think.”

“And... What happens if I don’t go that way. What if I want to stay? How do I get back?” The wind rustled again, a faint sigh through fine grains of sand. Val frowned.

“How should I know.” She said tartly. Patsy frowned right back at her.

“But you’re here aren’t you? Aren’t you supposed to help me?”

“I rather thought you could help yourself. I can only tell you what you already know. I can’t give you freebies.”

“But-“ Patsy began, wanting to argue the point, but Chastity’s face distracted her. It was suddenly contorting horribly. Her cheeks widening and writhing like something was living beneath the skin. Trying to burst free. The beach backdrop blurred like a defocused photograph and when she opened her mouth it was not a girlish voice that followed, it was a man’s and there was a note of urgency in it that made Patsy flinch.

“She’s crashing! BP’s bottoming out. Fuck it I’m charging. Stand clear!”

Patsy frowned, her head still half a second behind the present as Chastity stood on her tip toes and struck Patsy with both fists across the chest hard.

This time there was contact.

All the wind seemed to be knocked out of Patsy in that one push. The strength of the blow was so great that she was forced to her knees, her hands clutching her chest protectively as she wheezed.

“And again!” Chastity said in the same deep voice that was not hers. Patsy tried to cover her chest more tightly to stop the second strike she knew was coming for her but Chastity merely knocked them away as if they were no barrier at all. This second hit hurt worse than even and Patsy pressed her face into the sand, gasping and struggling for a few moments. Pain landing through her body, made it so hard to breathe.

And then it was gone. The pain was gone. Chastity retreated a few steps, her face normal once more. Patsy glared at her sister feeling as though she’d been betrayed somehow but Chas just shook her head and smiled sadly.

“What did you do that for?” Patsy croaked irritably still rubbing her chest though the pain was fading fast now that the voice was gone.

“Do what?’ Val asked curiously. She had moved to stand beside Patsy and was looking down at her with interest. ‘You should get up again Pats, it’s cold down there.”

Grumbling under her breath Patsy did as Val suggested though it was difficult, her limbs were vaguely uncooperative. It was a fight to stand but Patsy did it because that’s what she was good at. Val was right too, it had been cold down there. Back on her feet she felt warmth return to her fingers like some invisible stream had been bridged.

“I want to go home.” Patsy said finally when she could move her hands again. She did. She had a home didn’t she?

There were people...

Flashing images of faces passed indistinct across her mind. Shadows of people. There were two small faces. One smaller than Chas even. An older face and another after that. She couldn’t recall their names. A part of her whispered ‘unimportant’ but a much greater part stamped that voice away angrily. No, they were important. They were everything.

“Pats!’ A voice rang out and Patsy spun to find the face attached to it only to see Elizabeth watching her carefully a little way away. Her eyes looked questioning at Patsy even as her mouth moved like it wasn’t attached. ‘Patsy don’t leave me yet! You keep going do you hear me. You will come back to me-“

“Miss you have to stop here now. Only staff past this point I’m afraid. The team will do everything that they can-“

And again, just like before the voices were gone as quickly as they came. Someone was whistling or was that the sea? Val was by her side still and she seemed to have found a drink in the split second Patsys attention was diverted. It waved in front of her; translucent and lightly green.

“You looked a bit parched.” Was all Val said as she handed the glass to Patsy who took it for politeness sake more than anything.

“I want to go home Val.” Patsy said again a little more firmly than before.

“Drink up.” Val just encouraged, pulling the glass in Patsys hand to Patsys lip firmly. Insistently.

Slowly, unwillingly, Patsy drank the drink.

After one gulp she knew it was a mistake. It felt like ice so cold it burned was dribbling down her throat. She choked and tried to pull the cup away but Vals restraining hands were immovable; forcing Patsy to take every last drop.

Once that was done Patsy was hardly even aware of the cup falling to the ground. She clutched madly to her neck as though she could wring the sticky, agony away but nothing happened except that she gasped even harder through the bars of her own fingers.

“I’m sorry Pats.’ Val said from somewhere close by. ‘I didn’t want to but this isn’t one of those parties that goes on forever.”

“You- C-“ Patsy spluttered through the pain. Pain and thirst. She had not been thirsty before the drink but now she felt as though she was dry. Even her bones seemed brittle; crying out for liquid. For strength. She was in pain again and she was tired of pain. She had been tired of pain. Looking down she saw only the smooth expanse of her white shirt and she rubbed at her chest where it still ached strangely.

“You have to make a choice Pats and you have to make it now.” Vals voice was getting louder. It crackled unexpectedly menacing; like thunder on a sunny day.

“Ch-“ Patsy said through lips that were gripping together too hard to frame words. She felt dizzy. The beach was twisting on an axis she didn’t understand.

“You go through the desert or you swim.” Val explained in the echoing, expanding voice that was all Patsy could understand.

Woozy, her legs seeming almost too weak to support her, Patsy turned to look out towards the sea. The waves kissed the sand in a foaming line. The water was dark and did not look inviting at all.

“What... Ha- Happens if I swim?” Patsy asked, her eyes were streaming from the spreading numbness and cold that was biting into the center of her bones.

There was a long pause and then a hand stroked her face so gently that she was surprised. Strange. Wrong again. Val never touched her like that.

“Pain.’ Valerie whispered to Patsy, her voice quiet again, her eyes finally dimmed as she looked out to sea and the small lights winking off and on in the distance. ‘For you; so much pain you may wash back here the second you try.”

Patsy stood for a moment on the dark beach, the shapes of the dead her only chaperones as she looked from one direction to the next. Slowly she turned to look at Val who smiled beside her. Maybe she had already guessed her decision.

“I never wanted you to get hurt, any of you. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you- I really did love you in our own messed up kind of way.” 

Val nodded and stroked Patsys cheek again softly.

“I know.’ She said quietly. ‘You know I always though that you loved people just like a child loves people Pats; it’s why I chose you in the first place. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, you were too good to do that.”

“I’ve got to try and go home.” Patsy murmured weakly.

“It will almost certainly kill you.” Val warned flatly. The facts weren’t hurtful ones here; they were mere formalities.

“I still have to try. I have people who need me.” People. Patsy tried to hold onto their faces but they swam away from her again. None the less she knew they existed. People who mattered. Who were important.

“So then, this is goodbye for now Patience Mount.” Val may have said it but Chastity and Elizabeth moved to stand on the other side of Patsy in wordless repetitions to the sentiment.

A party of three watching to see her off.

Patsy didn’t bother to say goodbye to them all. She would, she reasoned as she took the first step down the beach, see them again. One day.

The air was even colder close to the serene incoming tide. Patsys legs felt like uncooperative blocks of ice. Something hurt in her chest, something ached.

She splashed into the water, feeling weakness and pain race to meet her the deeper she went.

Somewhere there was another beach. Somehow she knew she must only get there.

Patsy swam badly, the tide was a strong one to fight.

—

This was bad. This was bad. Everything. It was all so fucked. So so bad.

Delia barely restrained herself from saying the streaming exclamations of her thoughts out loud. Through thick eyes made swollen and sore from too many tears she looked down at her hands lying innocently on her lap for about the millionth time this afternoon. They still looked like her hands, they still looked innocent but they weren’t innocent. Not anymore.

Murderer.

They felt heavy hanging on her wrists. Lead weights attached with the gravity of what she’d done. What they’d all done. Every time she looked at them she felt physically sick, her stomach clenching, desperately ready to purge the churning guilt crushing her chest. She’d killed a man. She’d killed a bad man admittedly but who was she to decide that sort of thing. She’d killed a man who’d killed Jess.

But Jess was hardly better than him as it turned out.

And she’d only barely managed to save Patsy in the end. Maybe all that would be left at the end of this was the bits of Patsy that man had left them all with. 

There had been so much blood. Jessies blood. Patsys blood. Abrahams blood. So so much blood that it was everywhere. Biting into her skin like a living parasite.

Delia looked back at her hands again as more tears slid down her cheeks. Up to the wrist her arms were stained a lurid watery pink colour. The thin lines of her palms were darker even than that. When they’d arrived at the hospital just a few minutes after Patsy Delia had been led by a kind nurse to a sink. She’d scrubbed at her skin as she sobbed, she’d scrubbed and she’d scrubbed but it wasn’t enough. The evidence of everything that had happened was still there. Evidence of what she’d done.

Murder. She was a murderer. 

She couldn’t stand to look at her hands anymore. The clock tick tocked the hours away above her head as it had since they’d first arrived. Hours and hours ago and still no news. No idea even if Patsy was still alive... If she’d died- Fuck. Delia pressed her palms over her face in exhaustion to block out the room, the blood, the tick of the clock. Everything.

Her hands smelled like sanitiser and the smell was like smelling Patsy. The scents tied together inexorably somehow in her brain. She felt more tears slide down her cheeks miserably.

Patsy had been practically dead when the paramedics had arrived in a messy, sprawling, shouting mass of people waving weapons and badges. All Delia had been able to do was to continue to force Patsys heart to beat. Her arms had been numb from compressions. She’d not been able to talk as the men in green pushed her away and took over. They hadn’t even bothered to ask questions anyway. She’d done one thing right it seemed at the time, perhaps when... if Patsy survived this Patsy might find it in her to forgive Delia for everything that had happened. 

Jessie.

It felt like a knife was twisting in her guts when she considered all the things Jessie had said she’d done. The horrors she’d boasted of with so much pride while they’d waited for Abraham to arrive in that burned out hell. The question of how haunted her. How had she not seen this? How had she not known? She’d loved this woman for years and she had never guessed. Never suspected... And what the hell did that make her? An idiot at best but at worst... Patsy would think Delia had been involved somehow. She would think that Delia had allowed this to happen.

Had she? Delia had been racking her brains trying to work this out since she’d been taken. Had there been clues? Had she somehow known and not allowed herself to believe.

How the hell could Patsy every forgive her if she woke up. If. It was just an if too. Delia might not be a nurse anymore but she did know when a body was circling the drain. Patsy had been too still, too pale laying on the floor. There had been too much blood.

And the staff had led them into the family waiting room. That was a bad enough sign as it was. God, what was happening right now? They’d taken Patsy straight into the OR when they’d got here but that was hours ago. Patsy could be haemorrhaging right now, would they check for compartment syndrome? What if they couldn’t get the bullet out? What if she threw a clot? What if she just gave out under the damn strain of shock? 

“God this is hopeless!” Delia said it without thinking as she dragged her bloody hands away from her from her face and slapped her knees in agitation.

“Ahh’ said her companion soothingly. A dark hand reached to hold hers squeezing tightly. The hands felt cold, reminded her too much of Patsys. ‘Don’t say that lass. She’ll be fine. Patsy doesn’t stop going for anything; she won’t let someone like that scum to stop her. She’s too stubborn.” Helen finished calmly, her eyes unfathomable as she watched the smaller woman. It just made Delia want to cry all the more.

“But you don’t understand,’ Delia said hiccuping slightly, ‘look where they’ve put us. We’re in the family room.”

“Well I suppose they just wanted us to stay in one place. Quiet like.” Helen answer with maddening fairness. 

Delia stared at her in slow despair. The older woman looked truly terrible under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Her face was a mess; a blotchy patchwork of bruises in various degrees of purple, her eye was swollen closed, her dress was ragged and filthy. Some kindly soul, perhaps the same who’d seen fit to lead Delia to a sink had tried to offer Helen a hospital gown but Helen had declined stating hoarsely ‘if I wanted to show my arse to the entire world lass I’d simply buy advertising space. Why do it for free.’

They’d wanted her to go and lie down somewhere; get checked out properly. Delias nursing brain had agreed with this suggestion wholeheartedly even while the panicking creature she was currently portraying secretly breathed a sigh of relief when Helen declined this too. She’d simply said she’d wait until her daughter was out of theatre. She must be in some pain though Delia thought to herself. They’d hooked Helen up to a portable monitor and it was stood beside her chair beating erratically every now and again. 

Even so Helen didn’t groan or give any sign of it. Her mouth was a hard line.

Helen seemed to be quite a stubborn old dog all things considered and Delia couldn’t help liking her. She reminded her of Patsy in so many small ways. Tiny traits that made her feel less alone.

“But the family room means the patients going to die. They do it to stop a public scene. It’s hopeless.”

“It’s not.’ Helen said sharply, a shadow falling over her face even as her hand shook around Delias. ‘I know my child. Patsy won’t die.”

“How can you say that?” Delia asked wretchedly. She wished she had the room for such complacency, such incredible ability to ignore the facts.

“When I met her the first time,’ Helen tuned away to look at the wall, ‘we all knew her history. They gossiped about her in the staff room, she had a sheet as thick as your arm. She’d been through the worst kind of things and we were all expecting a monster or a complete head case to walk trough the door. But she was none of those things; she was this angry, ball of rage that no one could touch. She wasn’t frail or shy she was just lost. She was completely lost.’ Helen took a deep breath and bit her lip, releasing Delias hand limply.

“She was hurt so badly though Helen.” Delia had to say it because it might prepare the woman a little when the surgeon came to see them. Denial was a natural defence but she didn’t think she’d have the strength to deal with the fall out. 

“He never broke her before. Not in all those years she lived in that place. Not when she was working out what the world was to her. No one has ever broke her and believe me there have been some who’ve tried. She’s a fighter, she’ll survive. She has to survive.” Helens face was hard, her voice so fiercely protective that Delia gulped. It wasn’t difficult to see where Patsy got that attitude of utter certainty from. 

But it was crazy. All these people so completely sanguine in their certainty that Patsy couldn’t lose. She’d heard the same tone in Ferns voice as they sat in Seppies hospital room. Delia had felt panicked the moment Patsy had walked off the ward and she’d paced restlessly, doubting her decision to allow Patsy to leave her sight.

“Patsy doesn’t lie.’ Fern had snapped when Delia had muttered about the stupidity of it all with all the blindly awkward brand of hero worship that only the very young could ever lay claim to. ‘Ever. If she says she’ll do something then that’s what she does. She always come through; always.”

Fern. Helen. All these people so convinced, so firmly entrenched in a world where the good guy won made Delia almost let it suck her in too. For a moment she imagined the door swinging open and Patsy strolling in as constant and wonderful as ever. Delia actually turned her head to look at the heavy brown door the feeling was that strong but then the fantasy shattered as she saw again Patsys subtle limp as she’d strolled away from them all in the hospital, the one she didn’t think anyone around her could see. Patsy bleeding from seemingly everywhere on that lonely beach road, in the back of Delias car, in Delias bed, on the floor of the commune. Patsy who’d already been through a lifetimes worth or pain. Patsy. Human, fallible, imperfect Patsy; so breakable in Delias arms yesterday night entered Delias mind. Patsy wasn’t as bullet proof as she wanted everyone to think... And she’d been so badly hurt this time.

“You really know her don’t you.” Delia said eventually. It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t be in this room. Family room. She wasn’t Patsys family. After this would she ever be Patsys anything? It was hard to imagine what kind of future they could have now. After everything...

“I do.’ Helen said quietly before smiling faintly, ‘and you? You seem to care about my daughter quite a great deal. Would you believe me if I said Patsy has a habit of never bringing girls home to meet me. You’re actually the first one as it happens.”

“I’m... I don’t think we’re- it’s complicated.” Delia felt the unmistakable blush rising in her chest as Helen surveyed her with a suddenly territorial air and she realised with faint embarrassment that she was being sized up. 

“You’re a nurse?” Helen asked with interest. Delia floundered, it was surreal to be doing this right now.

“Teacher.” She admitted shyly. 

“Family trade. Good girl; I knew there was something I liked about you.” Helen gave a pained laugh as though she’d said a private joke. Delia just nodded slowly feeling like there wasn’t much else she could do.

“Have you been seeing each other for very long?” Helen went on, clearly enjoying the conversation as Delia squirmed awkwardly.

“Not very long no.” There didn’t seem a great deal of point in outright denying anything. Something about Helen told her she’d sniff out a lie from a mile off.

“No.’ Helen sighed ruefully, ‘I imagine not. Still, I’m pleased to have met you. You’re a smart girl with all the first aid stuff, grounded, you’ll be good for her in the long run.”

“Good for her?” Delia repeated faintly, feeling as though she may have slipped into another dimension at some point. How could anyone think Delia was good for anyone now? Delia hadn’t known what Jessie was. Delia wasn’t good or grounded. She didn’t feel like she deserved Helens praise. She deserved a prison cell.

Murderer. 

She hadn’t quite imagined her day would end like this somehow when she’d woken up in her spare bed with Patsy this morning; the world had been a brighter place then and now she was being quizzed by The Helen Shipman about her intentions towards Patsy. It was surreal. Maybe it wasn’t real. Just a bad dream.

“Hmm,’ Helen said mildly, ‘she has a habit of picking the wrong sort but you don’t strike me as that. I’m glad you found her, she’s-“

But Helens next words were cut short as the door suddenly barged open in a loud crash and a curly haired woman staggered inside the room waving something plastic in her hand. Delia blinked stupidly as she recognised with rising shock her bosses sharp chin and usually unflappable countenance. Phyllis? What fresh hell was this?

Crane stopped as suddenly as she’d come while the door flapped behind her wildly. Beside her she Delia was surprised to feel Helen drop her hand and stiffen.

Phyllis looked left and right cartoonishly fast, her face seemed frantic, fueled by some indeterminate panic until she spotted Delia sitting in her seat near the back and a look of absolutely relief brought out the red of her cheeks and she almost wilted on the spot, her mouth opening and closing very fast as she sucked in breaths. Delia had a moment of acute embarrassment and joy as she considered just how community minded everyone was in Poplar before she realised that Phyllis wasn’t actually looking at her. She was looking past her; at the woman she sat beside. Helen? 

“I heard someone was hurt. Came as fast as I could.” Phyllis gabbled in a feverish gasp.

Trying not to be too obvious Delia peaked through her lashes at her companion who suddenly looked shifty and for the first time since they’d met genuinely nervous as she surveyed the newcomer with an intensity that was bizarre. Like it hurt. After a moments nosy staring Delia had no choice but to look away. 

To gaze too long felt like an intrusion of some sort. The two older women watched each other carefully through the stretch of room. Phyllis mouth was hanging slightly open and Delia couldn’t ever recall seeing her superior look so... Well, there was no other word for it, lovesick.

“We’re okay,’ Delia ventured even though it wasn’t true because it felt like someone needed to cut through the tension. ‘Patsys in theatre.”

Phyllis didn’t appear to here Delia, she took an awkward jolting step towards them and Helen half raised herself from her seat their eyes never parting. There should have been violins, there should have been the susurration of a thousand clocks stuttering as time tripped over its shoe laces. There should have been something. Instead, Delia was left to look between them both feeling a blush rising in her neck again. She’d never, in all her years with any woman, had anyone ever look at her quite like these two were; like they were trying to out-stare the sun... Except, she considered fairly to herself, maybe Patsy the other night.

It occurred to Delia in that moment that she really needed to get away from the pair of women. Now. This wasn’t meant to be seen by her.

“I’ll erm... I can see you two have some... I think I’ll go and... I think I’ll just go away for a minute.” Delia mumbled getting to her feet. 

Helen didn’t seem to be aware of her anymore. Her eyes were just for Phyllis. Delia left the room quickly, walking past Phyllis who didn’t so much as give her a smile in greeting. Delia let the door close behind her loudly and sat in the hallway leaving the two women to their business breathing deeply.

Someone was running up the hall, the clash of heels on linoleum made Delia look up hurriedly to see Trixie wearing no makeup and a look of horror and confusion.

“What the hells going on. Delia? Someone said Patsys been hurt. Where’s Helen?” Trixie was demanding in her confusion and Delia fell into her arms. 

—

And then it was just Phyllis and Helen. Together at last.

The silence was too deep, twenty years deep in fact as the two women stared at one another across the aching divide. The room could have been floating in space, the world could have stopped its frantic turning as two hearts sped up, two halves reuniting after far too long.

Perhaps it was seconds, perhaps several millennia spanned its wicked web and the universe ended in a flair of sucking dark matter only to be reborn in the same moment. The same moment and yet different.

Phyllis recovered first; she, at least, had been prepared. Almost. She waved a crackling plastic coated punnet of grapes in the air feebly like a flag of surrender.

"I thought the niceties should be observed." She said in a half strangled voice. 

They both looked at the crumpled grapes just to stop the torture. The grapes did not do enough to distract from the heavy silence. The weight of this meeting. 

“I thought... Flowers but... The gift shop only had grapes.” Phyllis went on licking her lips as she watched Helen take in the fruit wordlessly.

Helens monitors began to bleep a little more frequently. A lonely body calling out for help.

Phyllis, as the only fully able bodied one in the room took away the distance in a few meagre steps. It should have been longer. How many steps did they have between them? Did either of them know how to make those miles surmountable?

Helen sat blank faced in her chair, under the harsh lights of the sterile room and felt her age sagging along every pore. What Phyllis saw when she looked at her was anyone's guess.

"I expect nothing less. Your mother taught you right." Helen said quietly, the shake audible as the presence of Phyllis finally close elicited the old familiar pain, inordinately magnified because... Just because.

"I heard about your mothers passing; my mam sent me a card... It sounded terrible. I'm sorry for your loss swe-Helen." Phyllis faltered nervously, the old endearment slipping from ingrained habit. Helens eyes closed and savoured the voice, the closeness even as she burned with confusion and grief. Would this be what they were? Phyllis could never want what they had again. It was so long ago.

"She... It was sudden. Funny thing really; after you were gone she used to ask about you sometimes. I never knew what to tell her." Helens throat chaffed at old wounds and self induced salt. To speak about her lover in any capacity had been near impossible let alone to someone who so obviously disapproved. The great gap where Phyllis hadn’t been had haunted her, too great a burden to bare some days.

"She was always very polite. She spoke to my mother occasionally; Christmas cards and the like. A fine body of woman." Phyllis murmured; ever the diplomat. It made Helens lips twitch even though nothing about this was funny. Phyllis had always been the calm one, Helen had been the one to shout and rail at the way things were. They’d been a good compliment.

Phyllis had drawn nearer. The grapes crunched in their plastic cage of her hands as they were deposited on the chair beside Delias recently emptied one. Helen smiled humourlessly again as she looked at them. They looked bruised but still edible.

"She was a cumudgeonly harpy, selfish as a queen and she had a streak of blue a mile wide. I said I'd never be anything like her.' Helen couldn't help but fidget as Phyllis watched her carefully. 'Now I find myself drinking tea no sugar just like her."

"I’m not surprised; you were always sweet enough.” Phyllis said it warmly, her eyes sparkling just like they used to and Helens cheeks flushed as blood rushed to fill the aching capillaries. It had always been this easy with them. Just being.

“You cut your hair.” Helen said it without thinking. Phyllis had. It used to be so long you could lose your hand in the hectic mass of curls if you wanted to. Used to hang halfway down her back; took hours to dry too. Helen had used to like to wind strands round her fingers at night going to sleep.

But that wasn't them anymore. Different time.

"You look beautiful Hel." Phyllis didn't seem to care about that fact. Her eyes had misted and her chest inflated. She looked at Helen as though she was the sun. Painful to look at but so bright.

Helen gave a bitter laugh and shook her head.

“Don’t lie. I look like I’ve been run over.” She said harshly, willing Phyllis to read the tone and back off. Phyllis just shook her head.

“You really haven’t changed a bit though, you’ve not even got grey hair.”

Helen couldn't stand to see the truth of the situation beaming out to her. Phyllis was going to say something stupid in a second, something sappy and romantic and then what would they do then? They were too old. Helen was too old. It was too late. She shook her head jerkily, her mouth thinning.

“You need to go.” She said forcefully. The smile faded from Phyllis’s face immediately. She gulped.

“I... I don’t want to. I’ve missed you Hel-“ she started carefully, following some invisible script in her head.

“No!’ Helens hand smacked the arm of the chair angrily as she tried to look anywhere but at Phyllis. ‘This is not the way I planned this! You cannot walk in here and just do this like it’s that easy! It’s not fair. I had a plan, a dress all picked out and I’d written cue cards for God’s sake! I was supposed to be charming and relaxed. Not... I didn’t plan on looking like this.’ She gestured angrily to her cut cheek, her swollen eye. ‘This isn’t how this is supposed to go. I can’t...’ her voice broke as tears that hadn’t been able to fall in front of Delia finally fell in the safety of Phyllis presence. ‘My daughter... This isn’t the right time Phyl.”

“You used to say you have to make your own right time.” Phyllis said with a hint of her old doggishness, her lips twitching as she surveyed Helen helpless in front of her. 

“I was young and foolish when I said that.” Helen answered bullishly and Phyllis snorted.

“Well then we’re both old and foolish now. I doubt you’re that much different... My Helens still in there I reckon.”

"But it’s no use. I'm older Phyllis. I'm not the same." Helen said it with a weary sigh and felt Phyllis startle like she'd shouted. The facts hardly needed to be uttered anyway, time was worn into them, but Helen wanted to say it. Wanted the honest mark of all those years spent and wasted to be acknowledged. It wasn't pleasant but it was protective. Phyllis was always the romantic one; Helen had needed to be practical to keep them safe.

Phyllis wouldn’t have left her. Helen had had to be the one to do that. Again, from the stubborn line of Phyllis jaw she hadn’t changed all that much.

"I... I understand you may feel differently than me." Phyllis said in a choked voice, her hand hovering at the back of helens chair, her once certain fingers made strange and clumsy. Foreign but not. 

Helen had kissed those hands time and time again once upon a time.

"I'm not what I was. I'm not that girl sitting at the back of the bus anymore.’ Helen sighed. ‘We were... We ended years ago. All of it; it ended years ago. Only a fool would think we could pick up where we left off like all that time never happened." Helen couldn’t stop the traitorous way her eyes pricked with the sting of the memory. It had all been such a waste.

"You were never really that girl at the back of the bus. That was just your disguise... I always knew who you were underneath it all." Phyllis said quietly, her voice bleeding.

"You must have hated me for leaving the way I did." Helen mumbled to her knees, reaching forward and smoothing the filthy dress frills.

Stupid again. She’d wanted to look nice when they first met after so long, pure vanity and now she didn’t. Helen resented this fact above all the others.

Phyllis bobbed slightly in Helens periphery, watching Helens movements keenly.

"No. Never that Helen. I never hated you; not now and not then and... If I shall have to walk out of that door and never see you again I still wouldn't hate you.' Tremulous, warm hands reached out to cup Helens jaw gently. A thumb caught on tear on the lined pad of the digit. 'I could never hate this face."

"I... Have responsibilities... baggage. I'm not free anymore." Helen stumbled blindly, already falling into the face she’d been searching for in every crowd since the day she’d seen it last.

"If you're talking about your daughter then we've already met.’ Phyllis smiled wanly. ‘She reminded me of you first time I saw her; stubborn to a fault and sheer bloody minded. I wish I'd been there for that adventure although I imagine it wasn’t always fun."

“She’s in surgery now. I can’t do this with you. Can’t you see I’m busy.” Helen willed Phyllis to see the truth, to walk away.

“I passed by the nursing station on my way here. They said she’s still going strong. They said you’d refused treatment too.” Phyllis frowned slightly in an unsubtle admonishment and Helen bristled.

“I have every right to do so. Did you really thing I’d act the victim while my daughters life hangs in the balance?” 

“No.’ Phyllis shook her head slowly, her eyes fond. ‘No I shouldn’t have thought you would. I’d still like you to let them help you when she comes out though... I’d like you to let me help you.”

“How did you even know where I was.” Helen asked without really wanting to know the answer. It could hardly be a coincidence though.

“Constable Mount called me earlier today with a missive for her superior regarding this matter. I passed it on and was waiting in the station for an update when they returned... I- I was worried you’d been hurt.”

“Well I’m fine.’ Helen muttered stubbornly, her heart sinking. ‘You’ve done your part, you don’t have to remain for some stupid noble cause.”

“Noble cause.’ Phyllis gave a resigned groan even as she smiled at Helen in exasperation, ‘I swear to high heaven that you are the most stubborn, irritating, head strong pain in the backside I have ever known Helen Shipman.”

“Well you can hardly say you weren’t forewarned.” Helen retorted grumpily. Phyllis nodded wryly.

“No... I won’t say that.” She said softly.

“It was... It was bad.’ Helen suddenly wanted to break down but she didn’t know how to do it. ‘Patsy- I keep telling myself that she’ll be alright but it was so bad.”

“What have the doctors said?”

“Nothing, they just took her.”

“No news is good news then I suppose.”

“If anything happens to her Phyll I don’t- I don’t know how I’d live with myself. She’s my daughter.” She was. Patsy was the child she thought she’d never have.

“I bet you’re a really good mother.” Phyllis noted with a hint of pride that Helen couldn’t share.

"You always wanted children.' Helen said dully. 'I must admit I always thought that you'd have married someone... Settled down." The thought was a wretched one Helen had not allowed herself to think about often. Phyllis paused and then reached over to bring her face a little more into focus.

"Ahh I wanted our babies Hel.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Babies with you and since that was not an option... I abstained.” Phyllis took another cautious foray into the realm of Helens prickly personal space and reached to grip Helens hand clenched tightly on her knee.

They still fit and they both knew it, because they’re are some things that time and society just couldn’t steal from them. Helen took in a shuddering breath.

“And now what? What?’ Helen asked in an exhausted huff. ‘Am I supposed to just fall into your arms is that it? Am I supposed to tell you that I still love you? That I... All this time it’s always been you?” 

“That was the general plan yes. Do you want to say those things?” Phyllis asked kindly, gently squeezing Helens hands and feeling the fingers she held curl around hers in return.

“I... I have missed you so much.” Helen whispered, the tears falling in ernest. 

“Then don’t send me away. Try Hel.’ Phyllis sat down heavily beside Helen and watched her intensely. ‘I won’t go home without you you know.”

“How can you still be such an optimist?” Helen asked with the last bit of reluctance she could find. Phyllis shrugged rather expansively, her arm brushing against Helens shoulder as she did it.

“I find that focusing on the negatives rarely brings about the results I want to see.’ She leaned a little closer so that they’re breaths mingled in the small space between their mouths. ‘Besides, I never stopped loving you either. I wouldn’t walk away now even if you threw a chair and cussed the sky black. I let you go once before and I refuse to do it again.”

“That doesn’t actually sound like you’re giving me a choice.” Helen noted.

“Nope.” Phyllis said, smacking her lips on the single word with relish.

Helen sighed and leant her face against Phyllis’s neck tiredly, her body hurt and Phyllis was one of the few people she trusted to let her be weak. Phyllis sighed into her ear and wrapped her arm over Helens shoulder, pulling her against her side tighter. Finally home.

“Well thank heavens for that then.” Helen mumbled in relief.

—

And somewhere upstairs, in a well lit theatre another stubborn heart continued to beat. Somewhere no one else could see Patsy Mount reached the other shore. 

She’d made it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oosh, get me updating early because writings fun now people aren’t getting beaten up. Woop woop.
> 
> Incidentally there were three possibilities for Helen and Phyllis. I sort of wanted to do a whole; Helen grousing about how it wasn’t a good idea and Phyllis dragging her across the room by a scarf or something muttering about how impossible she is and then they meet in the middle and Phyllis just tells her to shut up and snogs her but it didn’t work properly so I’m telling you that it existed instead because it was bloody brilliant to write and I’m sad not to have it in here. Damn but I hate editing. 
> 
> So she’s alive and Delias a mess and yeah, we’re nearly finished this rollercoaster. Deep breath peoples, kids are in the next chapter and it’s really cute.
> 
> Oh, on a side not, eagle eyed readers may note that I write a lot of ‘in between death/near death’ scenes. This is because I had a dream years ago and I tell you now it was perfect, really eerie and weird and since then I’ve wanted to write it. I think I need better vocabulary really, I’ve never done it justice to my own satisfaction, not even here. One day I’ll nail it.
> 
> Anyway, don’t let me distract you from commenting.
> 
> SB x


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't seem to have that much to show  
> For all the hard work, the sweat and toil  
> You say 'well, that's right', and you should know  
> You've been there before  
> You've basked in the glow  
> You've stood in the roar  
> You've tasted the snow
> 
> David gray, hospital food.

Patsy existed in a cloud of nothing. Floating along the world like it didn’t belong to her. Just alive and alone.

But this was changing.

She was slowly becoming aware that she had a body. It had to be a body she reasoned because it was hurting her. That meant she was alive, she was real. It really hurt. And there were people talking. All around her there were voices scratching around the surface of her ears buzzing away. Some of the words were even starting to make sense.

“She’s going to wake up soon.” Said a voice that sounded young and excited.

“Shh, she’ll wake up in her own time, you heard what the doctor said, it could be a few hours yet.” Another voice, another voice she knew... Somehow.

“Yeah,’ said the teenage voice in a long, exasperated drawl. ‘But I know she’s going to wake up soon.”

“Ouch!’ Someone yelped loudly and something else hit the floor with a guilty thunk. ‘Phyllis! Honestly, Nun chucks! I really don’t think it was a good idea to give Seppie those things. They’re a dangerous weapon, it’s hardly the right time.”

“Ahh come on, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun.’ Said someone with a slightly stronger accent than Helens. Patsy didn’t recognise it. ‘But perhaps I shall take your point. Here lass, I’ll take them back now.”

There was a sort of heavy breathing noise and then someone sniffed grumpily.

“She was only having fun.” The teenager muttered mutinously.

“Let’s not all start fighting. There’s been far too much of that already...’ Someone sighed wearily like this griping had been happening infrequently for too long. ‘I think we’re all just a bit tired. It’s been a long day; Fern, stop pouting there’s a good kid. Phyllis... ‘ The voice trailed off weakly before snapping back almost instantly. ‘Trixie if you need to go then just go, I’m certain Patience won’t hold it against you.” Ahh, Helen. Patsy knew that voice to her bones. She sounded mild, in control, calm.

That meant everything was okay didn’t it? Didn’t it? But... no, something had happened hadn’t it. Something bad. The girls? Was someone hurt?

“I’d hardly leave now.’ Trixie retorted in a wounded voice sounding defensive. ‘I’ve been waiting this long haven’t I? And one of us should know what we’re doing when she comes round.”

“Helens right.’ That other voice. Phyllis? Patsy tried to recall a face but she couldn’t quite grasp one in the darkness. ‘I apologise lass, we’re all a bit tetchy, I should have thought.”

“I’m not tetchy.’ Replied Trixie with a huff, ‘I just don’t know why everyone’s here. ICU is just for family and friends not anyone who wants a gawp.”

“Phyllis is family.” Helen said sharply, a quelling note present that Patsy usually heard only if she was pulling her rarely acted mother bear routine.

Interesting? Was everyone waiting on her. Was Patsy supposed to be doing something right now? Was something wrong?

But that couldn’t be right Patsy thought tiredly, Helen would fix something if things were wrong... Things were starting to become too real. Patsy was realising she was in more pain than she should be by just existing. It also occurred to Patsy that she was laying down, something warm was bunched uncomfortably beneath her cheek and the smell of starched linen wafted into her brain.

Hospital.

Hospital?

Certain that she wasn’t in any immediate danger Patsy finally opened her eyes.

The room was blindingly bright, just the sensation of opening her eyes hurt her. Everything hurt her. The pain was disorientating, she couldn’t see anyone else, she couldn’t see anything except what was slap bang in front of her. And what that was she couldn’t understand. Something dark looked out at her as Patsys eyes adjusted and she thought dreamily of a hand; someone trying to hurt her again.

Because someone had been hurting her.

Through a heady cocktail of pain, confusion, drugs and externally induced sleep Patsy squinted and just made out the silhouette of a crooked smile and a winking eye far too close to her face. She spoke without thinking, the urge to hit out before she could be hit taking over long before she understood what she was seeing.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Was what Patsy tried to say, the words intended to be menacing, but they were merely garbled, her throat too sore, her voice just a rasp as she glared at the indistinguishable shape sat before her.

She thought perhaps that the shape didn’t hear her at first because it didn’t move but someone else heard her. Someone gasped. Then so did someone else. Then from all sides there was a great susurration of many chairs being dragged away as people leapt to their feet all at the same time, shouting so loudly Patsys ears almost closed up in defence.

“Pats!”

“Patience!”

“Patsy! She’s awake! Finally!”

A cold hand was suddenly gripping Patsys wrist and the contact shocked her. She flinched and tried to drag her hand away, tried to escape. Abraham. So much pain.

She twitched where she lay and realised at once what it was that she’d been glaring at. A teddy bear. A teddy bear? It was small and nearly bald on one ear with only one eye. Seppies bear... Seppie?

Her thoughts were derailed as two small hard things were suddenly pressing onto her legs as someone small leapt onto the bed. She gasped in pain as someone else shouted in her ear too eagerly.

“You’re awake! Knew you’d wake up soon, I kept telling them and they wouldn’t believe me. I said you wouldn’t stay gone. I said you’d come back to get us.”

“Now now,’ Helens stern voice rang out heavily using the kind of tone she’d employed often when Patsy was a teenager, it was so familiar in fact that Patsy almost straightened up out of guilty habit. ‘We shouldn’t crowd her, she’ll need to get her bearings. Patience, how do you feel sweetheart?”

How did she feel? Patsys head swam, she could hardly focus on working out what didn’t hurt to really give an honest answer. So she gave the first one that crossed her brain without thinking.

“I feel like I’ve been fisted.” She mumbled with feeling. Beside her she heard Fern giggle embarrassedly at the unexpected response and someone else coughed loudly.

“Children present!” Said someone sharply. Patsy wasn’t able to quite place the voice though she wasn’t trying very hard. It didn’t fit and she didn’t care.

Forcing herself to concentrate Patsy lifted her head. It really was difficult, her skull felt woolly somehow as though her brains had been scooped out and filled with marshmallow. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything.

Breathe. It hurt to breathe. She tried to sit a little higher, hoping she could catch her breath if she did it but something stopped her. Someone was crawling up her body, bumping against her legs as hands pressed into her stomach.

Abraham!

Patsy remembered him clearly in a flash of fear and something beeped. Something screamed. She couldn’t- The hook. She’d been dying. She was dead. Abraham had been choking her-

A small face eclipsed the lights, cutting through her terror to hang in front of her wearing a pumpkin grin and wide dark eyes.

Abraham’s eyes loomed over her as he squeezed every drop of breath she had left.

Patsy cried out, she couldn’t breathe. The beeping became louder and louder. The face was so close now that it was just about distinguishable. Patsy shivered, tried to bunch her fists, tried to tense the protesting muscles in preparation to fight again but then-

The face drew even closer and pressed an unexpected, very wet and slightly sticky kiss to her cheek. The smell of baby shampoo and strawberry lollipops was jarring as it washed over her and... wrong. Patsy froze, her hands falling open to lay flat where they were as Seppie drew back victoriously. Her head cocked quizzically while she surveyed Patsy.

 **“Red! You stopped sleeping.”** She signed slowly, like Patsy was the one learning to sign.

Patsy nodded dreamily, not quite sure anything was real and looked around for help. She had just been sleeping so why was there a bloody crowd in her bedroom.

The hands at her wrist were dark and warm and she followed the line of them all the way up to Helens face; Helen looked like she wanted to cry as their eyes met and the hand squeezed gently on Patsys instinctively, holding her in reality. The palms were damp with sweat against Patsys cold skin.

“You’re awake.” Helen said with awful relief and Patsy nodded again. She was? But she felt like she was still sleeping. Was waking up a good thing?

“I’m awake.” Patsy repeated groggily like the words would make more sense if she said them enough. She tried to move to shift the pain away and Seppies uncomfortable weight on her aching side but she didn’t try to move the child. Seppies shampoo hit her again and it made her calmer than Helens hand. It was real. Patsy was real.

“You shouldn’t move around too much.’ A blonde head sprung up behind Helens. Trixie, looking tired, her hair unusually messy as she watched Patsy critically. Patsy tried to use her other hand to lever herself up higher and gave up when it felt strange.

“Only if you insist blondie.” Patsy muttered as she sagged back down, everything hurt.

“How’s the pain? The good thing about ICU is that they do really good drugs.” Trixie offered, her hand reaching to rest on Helens shoulder as more faces crowded in.

There were so many people. Patsy didn’t know how they’d all got in her house.

“Are you okay Patsy?” Fern was pushing her face closer too, her pointed chin poking through the bars of the bed, her mouth tight as she frowned at Patsys pallid features. Patsy tried to smile.

“I’ve been better kid.”

“I knew you’d wake up.” Fern grinned, satisfied that Patsy was really there with her. Patsy felt helpless in the face of the girls obvious and terrifying sincerity.

“Are you okay?” Patsy asked as she tried to search through the jumble of memories. She’d been worried about Fern she thought... but then again she’d been worried about a lot of things.

“We’re totally fine, Delia saved us. When that guy came in to Seppies room after you left she sort of did this trick to Seppies computer monitor thingys and it stopped beating so they thought she was dead or something. They left her and took Delia instead.” Fern spoke so casually about this that Patsy felt suddenly very old, she didn’t understand what was going on. What guy? What room? There was too much stuff to sift through right now.

Patsy felt Seppies fingers tapping a wire protruding from the bottom half of her pyjamas with interest and stifled the flinch she felt.

“I’m really glad you two are okay.” Patsy meant it. She didn’t know why but she did.

“You didn’t die.’ Fern breathed with ill concealed smugness. ‘They kept saying you might and I just knew you wouldn’t. They didn’t know you’d walked through fire did they?”

“No.’ Patsy wheezed. ‘No they didn’t.” Had she died then?

Someone tutted from Patsy other side but Patsy didn’t look round to see who disapproved. She smiled softly and reached to stroke Ferns face.

Tried to stroke Ferns face.

Her hand.

Patsy froze when she first realised something was wrong. Her hand felt wrong. She’d lifted it up and saw the bandages, the horrible memory struck her like a hammer blow. Her finger. She tried to flex her palm and it moved strangely, it didn’t feel like it should, the balance was off.

“Pats?”

She didn’t bother to check who was talking now. She couldn’t look away from what Abraham had done to her. The memories surged hard. What he’d done. What he’d taken. What had happened all hit her until she couldn’t breathe. It was incomprehensible. She couldn’t even remember how much was gone. How much she’d lost.

She only knew she was crying when Seppie stroked at her face clumsily, her fingers rubbing at the tears, her other hand a question asked far too fast for Patsys slow brain to catch.

“She’s crying because that man cut off her finger. She can’t sign properly now.” Fern said with her own hands, clearly answering Seppies curiosity, nodding knowingly towards Patsy.

Patsy felt a pit of grief open up in her chest as she drew in a ragged breath.

“Now, there’s no need to say that sweetie. You’ll be absolutely fine Patsy, it’s not something that deserves this; come on, don’t cry, you’re alive aren’t you.” Trixies words rang hollowly around Patsy and she wanted to cry harder. She felt Helen shift uncomfortably as she turned to frown at Trixie.

Patsy couldn’t look at any of them. Abraham. The shame. All of a sudden it was too much. Everything. The hospital smell, the faces all around her, the loss. It all hurt too much. She wanted it gone, she wished she could still be asleep. Still free of the knowing.

Seppie paused where she sat. Apparently busy absorbing Ferns answer in her head and then she shook it meaningfully. Reaching forward she ran her finger along the tip of the bandage with a calculating expression.

**“That man hurt you.”**

Patsy couldn’t reply, her chest was hollow where the hole had cut her. It felt like he’d ripped out something important and it had been sewn back crooked. She was crooked and wrong and dirty. Abrahams child. All her fault. All those deaths.

Seppie was looking around at the assembled watchers, her lips puckered, wanting answers no one had to give. Everyone watched Patsy in silence and she wished they wouldn’t. She wished she was alone.

But she wasn’t alone. Seppie plucked at her bad hand and held it solemnly between hers, rubbing along the hidden lines of her fingers. Checking what was there. Patsy hardly felt it through the creeping numbness.

“Are... Are you okay Pats?” Fern seemed nervous now. Someone coughed. Someone said something and then so did someone else but Patsy wasn’t listening to them. She watched Seppie move about her arm with all the precision of an archeologist in a new dig.

When she’d finished she let go and brought her hands close to Patsys face, the fingers moving with force as she spoke silently but with a tense sort of stutter.

 **“You’re sad because you in pain.”** Seppies tongue poked through her lips as she concentrated and Patsy nodded even though it hurt to move her head.

**“Yes.”**

**“Today you sad red but tomorrow...’** Seppie faltered thinking hard, **‘tomorrow you not be sad.’** She gestured to Patsys hands, **‘we learn new words. We talk again. I’m going home with you now, I’ll help... When we go home, we’ll be happy again. Together.”** Seppies eyes were huge. Her meaning so large, the expectation so vast that it made Patsys heart monitor beat loudly again, beside Patsy Fern shifted too, watching Patsys face as both of the girls waited.

It was a decision. A fork in the road. Patsy could say no after all.

Patsy paused, feeling like this moment should be more auspicious than it was and then nodded.

**“Yes.”**

  
“Yeah, I’ll take you home. You’re right. Thank you.” She had to say it out loud just so Fern heard it too. She felt both children relax slightly as she rested her head back to the pillow. The cushiony give did nothing to help push away the sensation she was slowly drowning. Her chest hurt. Hurt to catch her breath. Seppie watched her with the air of a business woman closing down a deal she’d been working on for years. Patsy let her useless hand drop to the bed again, unable to even try and use it.

“Fern,’ she asked in a defeated sigh, ‘you’ll have to sign for me when we start off- I can’t.”

Fern puffed her chest importantly with a significant look around her. Patsy watched her begin chatting earnestly to her sister with a sensation she didn’t really understand. They were hers. That seemed to be everything she could say. Patsy sighed quietly as everyone else murmured around her and took the opportunity to look at who was visiting her properly for the first time.

Helen seemed dulled where she stood leaning a little against the railings of the bed. Her face was still littered with bruises but they were fading now.

Trixie was wearing her uniform like she’d just come off shift and she too looked dishevelled. There were circles under her eyes and her cheeks were red like she’d been in the sun too long.

On Patsys other side were too more surprising visitors; Chummy and Phyllis.

Chummy was close to the wall. She seemed as though she was keen to listen and pleased that Patsy was awake but too polite to intervene on a family moment. As Patsy looked her way their eyes met and Chummy half smiled and nodded her head.

Beside Chummy stood Phyllis. The woman looked rather red in the cheeks too but the rest of her was pale as milk. Her hair hung a little limply around her face and her clothes were rumpled as though she’d slept in them. In her hands she held two wedges of wood and Patsy frowned at them for a moment before realising with a swift wave of detached amusement that the old bat had brought her nunchucks.

The laughter died quickly as Patsy looked around again and realised who was missing.

“Delia!’ Patsy searched again, certain she must have missed her somewhere in her drowsy state but unless The Welshwoman had fallen down the back of one of the cramped hospital chairs it seemed she was wrong. Patsy turned to Helen, her panic mounting again. ‘Is she... Helen where’s Delia?”

Patsy tried to wrack her brains to recall exactly what had happened with Abraham but it was impossible, too much had happened in too short a time. Patsy felt lightheaded; had Delia... She couldn’t even finish the thought. Helen, seeing Patsys rising distress raised a hand soothingly.

“Shh, everything’s okay Pats. You don’t need to worry, you’re safe now sweetheart.”

Safe! Patsy wanted to laugh, the concept preposterous. What had happened to Abraham? Where the hell was Delia?

“Where is she? Helen what happened? How long have I been out? Did- Did he hurt her? Did he hurt you?” Now she had opened the floodgate it threatened to overwhelm her. The monitors fixed beside her bed bleeped ominously fast and Trixie fidgeted, looking towards the rooms door.

“Pats calm down or they’ll throw us out.” Trixie said in a warning voice but Patsy couldn’t. She stared at Helen; emploring her to help, to make her understand. Helen sighed and cast a fleeting look towards Phyllis before reaching to hold Patsys wrist again.

“Everything is fine Patsy. Listen to me; there’s nothing to be worried about. Now you’re awake everyone’s alright, it was just you he hurt Pats. No one else.”

“But where is she then?” Patsy felt more tears fall down her face and she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she sounded like a child. She was frightened and angry and overwhelmed and quite frankly she felt that she deserved a few tears shed for that.

“Delia is perfectly well sweetheart, she’s been here all week just like the rest of us. She left about half an hour ago, just after they removed your ventilator.”

“Ventilator? A week?’ Patsy repeated the words and willed her brain to work but it didn’t. She tried to ball up her bad hand but it wouldn’t do it so she reached to grip Seppies leg instead. Seppie was watching Patsys face with interest as Fern translated. ‘How long have I been out? What, what happened?”

Helen removed her hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. She looked older Patsy thought, older and sadder and worn to the bone.

“You’ve been asleep for almost six days Patsy. They had to do some quite complicated surgery I’m told, they needed you to stay still so they kept you under. We’ve’ She gulped, ‘we’ve all been very worried about you.”

Worried about her? Patsy blinked slowly. Why would anyone be worried about her. It was Delia they should be worried about, Helen they should be worried about. Patsy didn’t matter.

“What about Abraham, did he get away?” Patsy asked, glancing at the door fretfully, her imagination playing tricks on her as she saw a pale hand curving round the frame, ready to start the games all over again. Her hands balled into fists as she saw it happening, saw Seppies head bob when she smiled at Fern.

He wouldn’t hurt them. Patsy would die before anyone hurt any of them.

“On no,’ Helen said tightly and there passed a strange expression across her face; like satisfaction without the pleasure. ‘He won’t be going anywhere. He died sweetheart, he won’t be coming back for you again. You’re safe.”

Patsy didn’t move for a moment as she seemed to fall into Helens words. They didn’t make sense. Safe? Patsy wasn’t ever safe.

“He died?” Patsy asked in a disbelieving voice and Helen nodded firmly.

“He’s dead.” She agreed with the finality of a book closing.

There was the swish of fabric as Patsy rested her head back against the pillow again; dazedly pondering the impossible truth Helen had given her. Abraham... dead?

“You’ve really given us all an absolutely horrid few days Pats.” Trixie murmured from far off. Patsy only nodded in vague reply as she looked down at her hands; one pale and spindly and long, the other concealed behind its wrappings.

Then the door opened loudly, the wood catching on the wall behind it as a nurse Patsy didn’t know walked inside pulling a portable meds cart with her. As soon as she’d entered the room she looked around it, taking in the large volume of visitors with an unimpressed tilt to her lips.

“The patients woken up then? In that case I really must insist you all go home, we’re more than capable of looking after her and you all need to rest.”

“Yes,’ Helen agreed as spokeswoman for the others, gesturing at the girls beseechingly ‘but can’t we have ten more minutes? The girls need to know it’s okay. We’ve all been waiting for this.”

The nurse pursed her lips and fiddled with a fob watch attached to her scrubs grumbling.

“I can give you five minutes and then I shall need you to go. Patience needs rest and time to heal not overtaxation from eager visitors.” She frowned down at Patsy who in one way disliked the woman for sending away the people who cared about her and in another felt a wave of gratitude. She could do with some space right now.

The others began to edge away a little, Seppie slid down the bed obediently and jumped to the floor, walking over to a new looking pack leant against the leg of one of the chairs.

Chummy however took a step forward. She was holding something large and rectangular in her hands.

“I’m terribly pleased to see you’re awake constable; the lads at the station all send their best wishes.” Chummy gave a toothy smile that was half nerves and Patsy returned it half heartedly.

“Dyer. Did they take him in?” Patsy needed to know before everyone left. Chummy paused as though taken aback that Patsy would ask this but then nodded, her smile fading sadly.

“Indeed they did. Terrible business, incidentally the inspector asked me to tell you that while she fully appreciated you sending her all the information when you did she would prefer,’ Chummy gave an embarrassed cough as though pausing to show that she was directly quoting now, ‘err, in the future you don’t act like a bloody Bond girl and follow standard procedure just like everybody else.”

“Tell her I’ll think about it as long as she nails that bastard.” Patsy muttered as she rubbed at her chest. It hurt and the pain was starting to make her feel nauseous.

“I highly doubt there’s any worry on that score old be-‘ Chummy stopped abruptly as Helen, who’d been reaching down to get her coat straightened very fast, her fist clenched. Chummy gulped and carried on in a quicker voice. ‘Chum. He was arrested at his home and the case is being dealt with by another force. Professional standards are leading the enquiry; after your info they checked the house and found a fair few damning pieces of evidence. From what I heard this morning he’s currently attempted to argue he was being coerced but even if he attempts that he’ll still be charged with conspiracy, fraud and human trafficking.”

“Those people.’ Patsy started, ashamed it had taken her this long to remember those faces peering at her through bars. ‘There were people in the commune; did they get out too?”

Patsy expected Chummy to speak but it was Phyllis who answered looking revolted as she spoke.

“They did, don’t worry lass. Delphine didn’t leave anyone behind; she’s too good for that sort of mistake.”

“Delphine?” Patsy said perplexed.

“DI Urusula. Didn’t you know her first name.” Chummy cut in looking surprised. Patsy shook her head wishing she could sleep again and vaguely intrigued why the hell Phyllis bloody Crane knew her bosses first name when she didn’t.

Too many facts were filling her depleted head space; none of them seemed to matter much. She wished Helen and the kids would stay. She wished Delia had been here. She had things to say to Delia although, on reflection, she doubted she’d have said them in front of a crowd.

The nurse from before chose this moment to poke her head around the door again.

“Times up I’m afraid,’ she called, ‘my patient needs quiet rest, you’ll all have to leave.”

There were a few mutters from Fern at this but Patsy didn’t really mind. Chummy propped the thing she was holding down onto the side table beside Patsy looking nervous again.

“What’s that?” Patsy asked wearily not putting it past Ursula to send her paperwork to fill in so she kept busy.

“It’s a case file...About Abraham.” Chummy began and Patsy felt the colour in her face drain away as she took in the large file with new interest.

“And how did you get it?” She asked suspiciously.

“It was passed to me by victim liaison. Well,’ Chummy corrected herself, ‘it was passed to Ursula who passed it me to pass to you. It turns out he had a longer history than it was initially thought. I put the prints into home indexing after the post-mortem just to see and it had several matches with different names. I hoped you wouldn’t mind but I did some digging, it seems he was wanted by several forces but because homes didn’t exist when he first went to prison his outstanding warrants didn’t come to the prosecutions attention. I contacted all of them and victim support to compile a... a history for you. I thought it might help you to understand what’s happened.” Chummy stopped, her cheeks reddening as Patsy stared at her.

“You really did all of that.’ Patsy said weakly, ‘because you thought it would help me?”

“Well of course I did,’ Chummy replied looking surprised Patsy hadn’t assumed she would. ‘That’s what chums are for aren’t they?” Chummy blinked slowly at Patsy and Patsy had the sensation of having swallowed something too big. Her eyes filled with tears again but she patted Chummys hand clumsily.

“Thank you.’ Patsy said with feeling. ‘Thank you for everything.”

Chummy grinned and with a nod to Helen she stepped away. Helen remained as the others filed out. Their eyes met.

“I-“ Patsy started but Helen shook her head and bent over to press a kiss against Patsys forehead. She stayed there a long time, Patsy used her good hand to awkwardly hold the older woman’s neck. It felt solid. It felt like home. Her real home.

“You will never put me through this ever again.” Helen whispered sounding punch drunk and Patsys eyes stung.

“I’m sorry.” Patsy replied feebly as Helen pulled away. Patsy wished she’d stay.

“Don’t apologise... I thought- I’m just so pleased you’re awake.”

“Thank you... Will you look after the girls while I’m here?” Patsy realised bleakly that she didn’t know how long she’d be in hospital. She needed to sort out somewhere bigger to live. She needed to sort... Things. Helen sighed ruefully as though she sensed mental clocks ticking.

“Of course I will. Phyllis is helping too, I hope you don’t mind. The girls are fine; it’s you who needs looking after.” There was a lot in those words. Helens cheeks flushed as she spoke and Patsy felt her eyes flutter closed. The bear jumped out at her again and she reached clumsily for it.

“Here. Give this to Seppie won’t you. She’ll need it.” Patsy proffered the bear in a shaky hand and Helen took it with a pleased nod.

“The famous bear? She thought you might want it while you were out of it but I must say she’ll be pleased with the reunion. Sleeping is going to be a challenge with that one I’m afraid. You’ve taken on quite the task kid.”

Patsy nodded because she could hardly deny it and with a final squeeze of her hand Helen almost turned to leave. A thought occurred to Patsy as she looked at the doorway; her brain working half time.

“Helen?” Patsy sounded like she was already half asleep but she wasn’t. Not yet. Helen paused, her hand still on the end of the bed.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Phyllis?”

Helens cheeks crinkled slightly at the unspoken questions attached to that name but didn’t answer. She left humming under her breath. Patsy didn’t know the tune but it still made her smile.

—

It took Patsy most of the next weeks worth of evenings to get through the file Chummy brought her front to back. Chummy and possibly Urusula had been helpfully thorough. Perhaps too thorough.

At times the amount of new facts spraying around the stuffy hospital room left Patsy with the unsettling sensation that someone was standing just behind her, out of sight. Waiting. That would inevitably lead to a break out of hyperventilation that she was only just about managing to force down when in company. She wasn’t sleeping very well anymore. Every dream was too vivid and every memory stung.

Still, it helped to finally know what Abraham was. It helped to have the fantastical lies she’d been spoon fed for so long ripped apart. Destroyed. Somewhere, a petty part of her hoped he raged at her. Somewhere she hoped he knew that she knew his secrets and hated her for that all the more.

And what a great heap of bullshit did his claims turn out to be.

As it turned out even his name wasn’t true. Abraham. That had been just another lie apparently; his birth records had named him Kenneth. Kenneth Shultz. He’d been born somewhere in London to a father who was mainly absent working away on the merchant ships. His birth mother had been a part time prostitute and he’d been the eldest sibling to at least three sisters. By all accounts the families life was so far below bread line it probably would have considered the bread line luxury.

The earliest social services report was basic to say the least; the old pencil forms nearly faded from age and disinterest. The children had been moved out of the family hovel sometime in the mid sixties; the children brought to a place of safety from an apparent life of wholesale neglect only when a neighbour reported an unnatural smell coming from the families flat.

Patsy had read the police report of this event with a surreal sense of pity she couldn’t quite connect to the man who’d systematically destroyed her life. The children had been found chained to the kitchen table, severely malnourished and half conscious. The youngest child had been three yet she hadn’t been capable of walking. A fourth sister, a baby, had been found tied up in a cot against the wall. The baby had been long dead, the rotting corpses scent the stench that had finally brought the neighbours attention to the issue. All surviving children had been branded with ‘failure to thrive’ and their life expectancy was pitiful. Patsy had been more troubled by the doctors reports; they reminded her too much her own childhood and she could imagine all too easily the boys matchstick arms, the bruises. The anger.

There was another police report later on with a neighbours statement telling how the mother had been last sighted some three weeks previously to the rescue. Even later in the file cane a clipping from an ancient newspaper reporting the story of a woman’s body dredged from the Thames from four months later; it was identified as Abrahams mother.

His mother had been called Patience.

Patsy had had to put the file down when she’d realised this. The queer link between herself and someone who had clearly been so ill equipped to raise a child didn’t much help her sense of hopelessness. He’d named her after his mother... She wasn’t sure whether that had been out of love or hatred. Probably both when it came to Abraham. Neither option really allowed her peace.

The children had been moved together to a Doctor Barnardos home somewhere near Scotland for three years after this loss. Patsy had stared at the picture attached; the house had been practically a castle and she heard again Abraham and his bragging about being raised amongst splendour. It was just like him to give only half a story; to turn the colours of it all into a new picture.

Someone had even managed to dredge up the annual reports from Abraham’s stay there. The boy, Kenneth, had been quiet, intelligent and painfully shy for the most part from what Patsy could surmise. The only negative to his behaviour was that displayed towards his siblings and this was raised repeatedly as a concern in what Patsy read. Unnatural was a common phrase. Several carers noted that the four seemed linked deeper than kin; the girls were subservient to their brother who in turn displayed a paternal need to keep them safe. All four ignored outsiders as much as they could.

Then, near the end of his stay, Abraham’s behaviour suddenly changed and Patsy could find no good reason why. His control over his sisters increased in a way that anyone outside of the foursome couldn’t quite explain to Patsys satisfaction. The girls were repeatedly caught in wrongdoing that was assumed to be on Abraham’s orders although these concerns couldn’t be substantiated. There was also the beginnings of bullying and intimidation observed too, mainly towards other children in the home. Abraham was dead set on running off anyone who dared attempted to infiltrate the family unit.

This culminated in one teachers bid to protect the youngest girl from this bizarre situation and have her fostered outside of the home without the others. At this Abraham had responded with his first instance of truly evidenced violence and he’d stabbed the woman in the face sixteen times with a pair of kitchen scissors when she informed him of her intentions.

The sister had been removed anyway and Abraham had been sent to the laws hands.

After a poorly documented court case he had been moved to a young offenders institution with the judge offering a more lenient sentence given the boys history. Separated from his sisters Abraham was more or less a model prisoner. Or so the very short report told her. After five years he was released and placed into another smaller reformary that doubled as a farm. The teenage Abraham was noted as a hard worker, handsome and charming with a long line of girlfriends. However, near this section there were more cuttings from more newspapers. A mysterious spate of rapes had occurred around this period; mostly older women living alone or single mothers. None of these crimes were linked to Abraham as a matter of fact but one report in particular did match his description. The police had followed up the case and Abraham had left his role abruptly. Patsy couldn’t tell if he’d been sent or if he’s chosen to leave. She could imagine his fury at being thwarted then; he would have hated being forced away against his will.

From here, bizarrely, he joined a seminary with the apparent intention to become a priest. Patsy hadn’t quite believed this when she’d read it and couldn’t understand how the church would accept a man with his twisted history.

There wasn’t much information available about this period but he didn’t stay long in his residency. Two years later he was sent on his way again. The church had not released any reason why Abraham might not be allowed to continue at the time but there was a cutting from a newspaper regarding a large theft from a local parish fund in the nearby area.

After this the stories became patchier and patchier as Abraham avoided larger organisations. The facts were less tangible; Patsy saw him living a nomadic lifestyle but she’d never know for sure. What was known was that he was wanted on three different warrants in a number of counties over the next five years; one for burglary and two for more serious fraud. On all three occasions Patsy noted his name was different. It appeared that he had become a confidence trickster, a lazy conman who wasn’t clever enough to avoid being caught although it was impossible to know how many crimes he committed and wasn’t linked to. Michael, Peter, Paul. The names made her lips curl.

It felt to Patsy like he was a man practicing his craft. She could see him; young and handsome and terribly calculated. Cruel.

He reappeared again as the Abraham she had known when he purchased the commune with cash in the early 80s. Patsy skipped over this part of the file on purpose but some of the information still stuck against her will. He began the commune in 1981. Patsy hadn’t been born until 87’. It was hard to work out when Elizabeth arrived there or how and no one seemed to have an real idea just how many people had joined the commune before its end but someone sure made up for their ignorance once the story hit the finale. The fire. She was mentioned in a few articles although never by name which made her feel relieved even if she couldn’t fully explain why but there was pictures of Abraham.

Smiling in chains.

She’d dropped that picture in the bin and tipped a jug of lukewarm water straight in after it. She watching his handsome face melt against the liquid but the smile was inside her skull. She’d never forget it while she lived and she hated that fact. She hated him.

Then he’d gone to prison; apparently to rot were it not for the efforts of one rookie barrister. Jessie. She’d been his only visitor for nearly five years prior to his release. Their relationship was hardly mentioned in the reports as Abraham did not seem to hold the visits in great esteem. His personal officer commented once that he appeared entirely ambivalent about being released and spent a great deal of time on his own in the chapel. He was praised repeatedly for his church work; even leading some of the duties when the prison priest hadn’t made it in.

And then of course Patsy knew what he’d done.

Attached to the file was the horrible solicitors letter that Patsy read again and again but refused to sign. He had left no living will and she was his only next of kin which meant... Which meant she now owned his possessions, the commune. It was all hers.

Laying back in her bed the Friday night after waking Patsy looked towards the ceiling for a very long time. Thinking.

Then, being sure not to make too much noise and rouse the nurses in their stations, she got out of bed and tucked the file in the locker above her bed.

She did not take it with her when she left and she did not mention what she’d learned even to Helen.

Abraham was dead. Patsy was alive. Perhaps, she told herself hopefully, it was time for her to believe in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s nearly done! It’s nearly done! It’s nearly over. 
> 
> Two chapters left after this one and the delay in getting this bad boy up was mainly because I’ve been writing all three chapters in tandem, the next two aren’t done but they are most definitely getting done quickly. (Bonus points as Catching up asked so sweetly I am also nearly done with a one shot NSFW with Phyllis and Helen which I’ll post alongside the next chapter because you know I love a good getting together with feelings chapter and I like making people happy.)
> 
> I’m having a weekend off uni. Can you tell from my energy levels that I bloody needed it.
> 
> Anyhoo, no pressure or anything but people who comment get cutesy replies.
> 
> SB


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a house built out of stone  
> Wooden floors, walls and window sills  
> Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust  
> This is a place where I don't feel alone  
> This is a place where I feel at home  
> 'Cause, I built a home  
> For you  
> For me
> 
> Cinematic Orchestra - Build a home.

Patsy stayed in the ICU for almost five days after she woke up before they downgraded her to a general ward. Here the visiting hours were more fiercely attended to and Patsy wasn’t give a great deal to do but brood moodily until she was interrupted by flash visits.

Trixies mood continued to be sour and her visits were long and painful for everyone involved although she didn’t discuss why. Patsy saw on the Wednesday she moved into the new ward that the blonde had removed her wedding ring and made a mental note to ask about this when they could speak plainly without an audience; Patsy hoped it wouldn’t result in a bottle thrown at her again, she wasn’t certain she’d catch it at the moment. Tom didn’t visit with her and Trixie hadn’t mentioned him which couldn’t mean things were going well.

The others, in contrast, were practically glowing. Seppie seemed particularly fond of Helen, their inexplicable bond formed without any real impetus from either party. Maybe it was because both of them were so close to Patsy, or maybe it was down to the fact that for the very first time someone knew how to do Seppies hair properly. Maybe it was Helens tendency to overfeed when she was anxious. In any case Seppie bounced with new vigour that made Patsy nervous. Helen really hadn’t been joking when she’d told Patsy she was taking on a big job; the raw energy was exhausting. Fern was clingy to the extreme, she wanted to know everything Patsy knew and some days it was hard to get a word in edge ways and on others the teenager wouldn’t speak at all. She’d just hover near Patsy with a sullen look on her face at the others.

Patsy only managed to get a good look at her hand when she moved onto the new ward. It wasn’t quite as bad as she thought it had been which wasn’t saying much. She still had a finger sort of and the stitches were neat but she kept forgetting when she reached for things. Every time she found the space where the end of her finger should be she had to fight down the urge to cry. This coupled with the new crew cut she was sporting left her uncomfortable in her own skin although Phyllis commented fleetingly that she thought the look suited her.

Her chest was the main issue, the reason for her extended stay. Abraham had done ‘quite enough damage’ according to the ward matron. The risk of infection had reduced after 72 hours but the long term damage to her lungs were as yet unknowable. The left lung had been severely compromised, the bronchus had been nicked in the process too and although they’d inflated it successfully again there was inevitable scarring. It wasn’t certain exactly what that would mean for her lung capacity. She wouldn’t be running any marathons any time soon was the most Patsy could surmise.

It was a Monday when Patsy finally got given permission to go home from the doctors. She’d felt a shiver of fear run through her as she called Helen to let her know. The prospect of actually leaving the hospital doors was downright alarming, the world outside a question mark she’d never understand fully. It scared her and her fear made her angry and fractious.

The others seemed to be up to something when they visited on the Sunday evening before she left but Patsy hadn’t been able to solve the mystery. She hadn’t wanted to really; Seppies too broad grin and Fern almost wiggling with excitement as they said their laughing goodbyes told her she should probably attempt to be a good girl and wait. It would mean more to them if she was genuinely shocked she’d concluded wearily.

The morning before Helen arrived to pick her up Patsy was laden down with warnings of what meds she needed to take, further appointments, instructions to contact a GP if she felt something give in her chest and disembowelment probably if she did anything too strenuous like hoovering over the next few weeks by the nursing team. Somehow Patsy got the impression that Trixie had been telling the nurses some pet stories. They seemed unusually firm when they pressed the final prescription packets into her arms before allowing her to limp out meekly at Helens side.

Delia still hadn’t visited.

Patsy was starting to feel a mixture of desperate disappointment and growing resentment about this but she hadn’t yet grown the stones to admit she wanted to see her to the others. Delia inhabited a confusing mish mash of feelings. Patsy wanted to see Delia; she wanted something to happen but she still didn’t know what she was going to say when they did meet face to face. She doubted an apology would be enough somehow; not after Abraham. Patsy wondered if Delia wished she hadn’t met Patsy. She couldn’t really blame her.

She wanted to know Delia was alright but the silence, the lack of input was jarring. It felt like a rejection and trapped where she was Patsy didn’t have the capacity to bridge the mounting distance. She had a distinct impression that the longer they waited the longer Delia would move away.

According to Phyllis, who always somehow seemed to be with Helen now when they visited with the girls, Delia had returned to work. The term was drawing to its conclusion, the promise of summer holidays in the distance. Patsy didn’t know what to make of that though she understood the desire to run from issues close to home by burying yourself in work. Patsy wouldn’t have minded a bit of work to distract her at the moment.

Emotions were for those that could handle them. She usually kept her feelings where she could manage them; inside and not in the public domain. That was difficult now; she couldn’t sleep properly, her brain unhelpfully turning blank at inappropriate moments. Luckily, she had long ago perfected a mask for such occasions. She could bury what was too big or too hard. She could ignore it and hope that it would go away. It had worked once upon a time she’d reasoned tiredly. So far she thought she was managing to pull this off rather well and then again sometimes she thought Helen caught her looking at the door wistfully when the visiting hours started coming to end. To Patsys relief Helen hadn’t mentioned anything about it yet. Which was kind of her really.

The plan was for Helen to drive her home; Patsy wasn’t really in any condition to get behind a wheel anyway, her breathing still coming too uncomfortably heavy and she couldn’t stop the pain when she moved her hand although she’d been practicing. She needed to sign. She was determined to be good enough and with bored persistence born from empty nights alone she’d started making clumsy language again. It wasn’t perfect but she’d improve.

Helen wore an unfamiliar blue dress when she came to pick Patsy up while Trixie stayed at Patsys and kept an eye on the kids. She looked like she’d even bothered with make up too which made Patsy smile and wolf whistle appreciatively when she saw her mother framed in the doorway.

“I should almost die more often if you’re going to start this get up as my welcome committee.” Patsy grinned, wrapping one arm over Helens shoulder as Helen plucked self consciously at her dress apparently not noticing.

“It’s nothing; just something I had in the wardrobe” was all she’d say about the new look. Patsy didn’t believe a word of it; Helen wasn’t really the sort to dress up often and Patsy knew all her posh clothes by heart but she didn’t push the subject.

They walked silently side by side through the wards to the car park. Patsy felt the touch of the sun heavily on her face as they stepped outside. Helen subtly held her a little tighter until they got to the car and Patsy was grateful for the support. Her heart was sprinting too hard in her chest, her legs wobbly. Everything was just so big. They pulled out of the hospital car park smoothly with the radio playing quiet pop in the background and the warm scent of June filtering through the cracked window. Patsys mind couldn’t take it in properly; she was already worrying about what would happen when they reached home. She was almost certain she was walking into some kind of party. She wasn’t looking forward to it much, already she felt drowsy.

“Don’t tell me the details if you can’t,’ Patsy caveated as they hit the main roads, ‘but how much am I expected to smile at whatever happens next?”

“Smile as much as you want to; it’s your party after all.” Helen answered in a mild voice, her hands held rigidly at ten and two on the wheel. She always drove that way; Patsy usually drove if they went out just for that reason. Patsy used to tease her about how a day trip with Helen driving felt like a week trip.

“So it is a party?” Patsy asked warily.

“You’ll see.” Helen replied with a faint grin, enjoying her secret almost as much as the girls apparently.

“Who’ll be there?’ Patsy couldn’t stop the glimmer of hope flickering inside her as she considered how Delia might be amongst the number. She had a vision of the woman waiting at her door and gulped apprehensively.

“Trixie, the girls, me, a few others. Don’t worry, we know not to overwhelm you.” Helen reassured gently. Patsy wilted at the missing name but perked up again as she thought Helen might have just glided over Delia somehow. She wasn’t to know Patsy wanted Delia there was she?

“And Phyllis?” Patsy asked slyly just in case Helen had heard the faint stirrings of longing in her voice and started asking questions. She’d noted that name missing too with slight amusement. Phyllis seemed to have joined the gang rather smoothly, she was certainly helping a lot with the kids for someone without an invested interest.

“No.’ Helen shifted, her voice changing ever so slightly, ‘she thought she’d sit this one out, she’s at home I believe.”

I believe? Patsy rolled her eyes. If Helen truly thought Patsy didn’t know that Helen had been texting Phyllis before she’d got to Patsy then Patsy was Fred Buckle.

Patsy chewed her lip lightly as they sped through sunny back lanes that wound and coiled around the town. Drawing up her thoughts idly.

Phyllis.

Patsy didn’t really know how she felt about Phyllis Crane yet. She was dependable certainly and she had a certain abrasive charm that Patsy didn’t quite mind but... Well, it felt a bit stupid to think it but nonetheless she did.

Jealousy.

She was harbouring irrational pangs of jealousy when she considered the woman. Patsy knew she shouldn’t feel like it really, she had no right to it, but she couldn’t quite shake off the unwelcome emotion as she’d watched Helen circle around the taller woman on the ward. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Helen to be happy; of course she did and if Phyllis was the one to make that happen then Patsy, on an uncomplicated level, hoped very much that Phyllis would stay forever. However, for so long, since the very beginning of Helen and Patsys relationship, it had always been just them. Helen and Patsy. Patsy had been Helens girl, it had been the two of them quietly growing up around each other. Patsy knew it wasn’t rational but it scared her to see the way the landscape was moving all of a sudden. Her mother’s attention divided.

Everything was changing.

Patsy was a mother now. She, Patsy, had responsibilities now to two children of her own and just when she would need Helen the most she could see her drifting away just a little into someone else’s world. Of course, Patsy told herself firmly, Helen wouldn’t ever stop loving her. Helen would always love Patsy. Patsy would just need time to absorb the knowledge that Helen could love someone else too and that was frightening when she knew she was facing challenges she was ill equipped to handle.

Abraham’s daughter.

Tonight was the first night she’d be alone with the girls. Their small lives placed in her rather questionable care. The idea was terrifying and ebbing closer as the car pulled into seventy along a straight road.

“Will you stay with me tonight?’ Patsy asked suddenly as a shiver of panic ran down her spine. Helens face pinked a little as she coughed and readjusted her grip on the wheel.

“I... I will for a little while,’ Helen faltered uncharacteristically shifty. ‘But Trixie said she’d stay with you. I thought you might like a bit of time with your friends. You don’t want me cluttering up the place.”

“Don’t be silly.’ Patsy said eagerly in a higher voice than she’d been going for. ‘Of course I want you there. What if something happens and I don’t know what to do?” Patsy closed her eyes feeling the panic deepen. She’d been worrying about this for days, all her doubts returning to the surface as her end date came nearer.

“Now you’re being silly sweetheart. Nothing's going to happen, the girls will be good as gold for you. They know you’re still getting better; Ferns been nagging Trixie all week about how she can help. You’ll be asleep early anyway I don’t doubt and I’ll be there in the morning... I thought I might bring Phyllis actually. Maybe we could have breakfast together.” Helens face remained carefully blank but Patsy noted the suggestion as something to discuss once her issues had been dealt with.

Patsy sighed and rubbed her fingers anxiously. At least with Helen she knew she could say anything and it wouldn’t be diminished or jumped upon. She could tell Helen anything; even if the answers hurt.

“What if... What if I’m no good at this Helen? What if it all doesn’t work out like it’s supposed to?” Patsy had been waking from too many nightmares to count at the minute about just this.

What did she know about looking after anyone? What skills did she have to raise a human being? Two human beings. Look at what she’d come from, the father she’d had. The mother who’d cast her off into the great unknown. What if she was born without the capacity to be a mother at all?

Helen frowned a little and then pressed on the break as she indicated left onto a small verge that had been carved into the tufty edge of a field with a crooked fence. Patsy didn’t speak as the older woman pulled on the hand brake once they’d slowed enough, it creaked warningly under her force and Helen twisted to look at Patsy squarely; the car parked. The silence thick.

“Is this what you’ve been worrying about then? You think you won’t be able to cope?” Helen asked kindly, her eyes far too knowing. Patsy blushed and looked down at her hands like a child would. Avoiding the unspoken assumptions.

“One of the things I’ve been worrying about yeah.” Patsy admitted shamefaced.

“You’re not him Patience.’ Helen said sharply, her tone stern. ‘You’re not anything like him, you’ve never been like him.”

“Only because I had you.’ Patsy argued in a small voice, hoping she wasn’t going to start crying. ‘If I hadn’t then who knows what I’d have been. He’s still a part of what makes me me isn’t he? What if I do something wrong? What if something in me snaps and I hurt one of the kids?” Patsy blinked furiously, ashamed at saying the horrible thoughts she couldn’t suppress.

“You won’t hurt them. You aren’t capable of that Patience, look at me sweetheart.” Helen commanded Patsy without heat and slowly Patsy obeyed, the squirming uncomfortable doubt a weight in her chest.

“I don’t want to be like him but I’m scared I’ll make mistakes.’ Patsy hated herself for saying this. Hated Abraham for what he’d made her. ‘I want to get things right and I want to be to them what you were to me. I want to be good enough and I’m terrified that I’m not.”

“Did you ever really think I was perfect?’ Helen sighed, her hand reaching to grip Patsys neck and hold her head up. ‘Did you really think I didn’t have exactly the same thoughts?”

“Of course you didn’t!” Patsy said it almost angrily, upset that Helen could suggest they were in any way on the same scale of fucked up. Helen and she were not the same; Patsy had Abrahams poison running in her genes, a ticking time bomb perhaps and Helen, Helen had only ever been good and kind and patient.

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry to burst your fantasy of me,’ Helen said with a twitch of her lips that might have been laughter. ‘But I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. Pats it’s completely natural to feel like you’re out of your depth; you’re taking on a lifetimes worth of commitment and I’ll bet that for you that’s down right terrifying. But everyone goes through it. The first six months we lived together I had to keep reminding myself that you were actually mine.’ She laughed at the memory. ‘You’d walk into a room sometimes and I’d have a second of panic wondering when your real mother was going to turn up and take you away.”

“You were my real mother.’ Patsy mumbled shyly, her ears reddening as she drifted into the kind of subject she’d usually avoid. ‘If you’d- If Abraham had-‘ Patsy swallowed harshly tasting bile at the mere thought of what would have happened if Helen had died. ‘I wouldn’t have come back from that. I couldn’t do this without you... I can’t do this without you.”

“You don’t have to do this without me Patience. You aren’t alone. I won’t let you be alone; you’ve got me.” Helen squeezed her jaw enough to make Patsy feel it.

“But what if I fuck it up somehow?” Patsy could just manage to say it on a whisper. She wasn’t a mother. She was a hot mess on a good day.

“Then you’ll find a way to fix it’ Helen stated firmly, ‘and you’ll learn the same way everyone else does Pats. Parenthood isn’t easy and mistakes are going to happen but you love them don’t you?”

“Yes.’ Patsy felt the strange sensation of spotlights pointed at her and the memory of Seppie when they’d touched the ground after the flat. ‘Yes I do.”

“Then you’ll be fine Pats. Honestly, you can’t mend things with words but you can with skin. They will push you to your limits; I know you did with me but at the end of the day you’ll do your best and’ Helens thumb stroked Patsys cheek fondly, ‘you will be more proud of them than you can say. I know I am.”

“I love you.” Patsy said quietly and Helens eyes grew soft. Patsy knew she should say that more often really, she really did love Helen more than she could believe. She made a mental vow to say it a little more frequently, Helen deserved to hear it.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

Their eyes met and Patsy allowed all the old hero worship to tumble out. This woman was her home. Helen seemed to understand because her smile became a little wonky, her eyes over-bright.

“So,’ Patsy said in an unbalanced breezy voice, trying to find her equilibrium and needing to lighten the tone a bit. ‘Phyllis eh? And will you be meeting the fair miss Crane this evening or tomorrow morning for our breakfast?”

“We... We have plans to see each other tonight.” Helen said cautiously, clearly wary of revealing her plans as she released Patsy and undid the break.

“Like a date?” Patsy suggested, trying to keep her mouth from leering with difficulty. Helen paused, looking left and right before resuming their drive. Her face fixed ahead of her.

“We’re eating food together yes.” Helen nodded primly as she picked up speed.

“Which would make it a date.” Patsy qualified dryly.

“It’s not a date. Teenagers date. We’re two old friends sharing a meal. It’s not a date.” Helen corrected looking adorably flustered.

“Yeah but please tell me that you’re not about to try and call Phyllis just a friend.” Patsy said sarcastically.

“We... We shouldn’t be discussing this.” Helen had just turned into an unfamiliar road but Patsy paid it no mind, too interested in Helens blushes.

“And why not?” Patsy raised her eyes to the car ceiling despairingly. The dress was a date dress then. Patsy suppressed the bizarre protective urge to remind Helen to be careful; it would be very messy if Phyllis broke her heart. For one thing Patsy wouldn’t be able to kill and bury the northerner as quickly as before with her busted up lung.

“It’s hardly appropriate for me to discuss this subject with my daughter.” Helen answered trying to shut the conversation down.

“So there’s a subject I shouldn’t be hearing about is there?” Patsy chuckled and watched Helen squirm.

“I just meant that it’s not something... We should be focusing on you.”

“Oh forget about me. This is way more interesting and besides Helen I think you’re forgetting that this is the one subject where I can actually be a help to you.” Patsy leaned a little closer. Helen seemed to shrink.

“And what exactly do you think I need help with?” Helen asked with a, to Patsys mind at least, rather hurtful amount of suspicion.

“Oh so many things,’ Patsy stuck her tongue behind her teeth and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘I have a lot of knowledge to pass on to the needy and deserving. There’s this trick I can teach you where you sort of curl your tongue right when-” Patsy began, enjoying the slide back into their usual back and forth. It was oddly grounding.

“Then let the court hear that I’m not needy in any way, just for the record.” Helen said airily though her cheeks were darkening.

“Helen!’ Patsy grinned to see the woman for once on the receiving end of a third degree. ‘Come on, throw me a bone, what’s the plan? Dinner and a film and then... Quick grope... Maybe more?”

“No.’ Helens face flushed deeper red as she looked forward determinably, ‘Phyllis is cooking me something at her place if you really feel you need to know. I will be staying in her spare bedroom.”

“Aha!” Patsy raised a finger in triumph as Helen squirmed.

“No aha, there will be no aha-ing at me Patience or I’ll stay at yours and tell Fern about the time you were seeing two women and they had a fight in front of my house because you wouldn’t come out and see them.” Helens was not a threat to be taken lightly and Patsy folded back her finger gingerly as she pouted.

“Fine.’ Patsy muttered in defeat as the car swung down a narrow street into Poplar village. ‘But it definitely sounds like a date to me that’s all.”

“Well it isn’t.” Helen said firmly.

There was a pause as Patsy looked at her own reflection in the passenger window, the only sound was the soft whoosh of air as it glided around the car and then-

“Bet you shaved your legs though.” Patsy muttered innocently to her smirking image in the glass and then jumped when Helen slapped her leg without enough force to hurt and hit the indicator hard with the side of her hand in agitation.

“Oh, shut up Patience.”

Patsys laughter rang through the car as it turned into the very heart of the village. She laughed and she laughed until tears pooled in her eyes and her lung pulsed painfully and after a while even Helen joined in to. It felt like a release, a line drawn in the sand. It felt bloody good; seemed far too long since something had been funny.

Patsy was so distracted by the joke in fact that it took her longer than it should to realise that they had stopped. She looked out the window curiously when she did, not really recognising her surroundings.

They were in Poplar village, about ten minutes walk from the primary school Delia worked at. They’d paused on the edge of an old fashioned village green, the decaying lime stone of a war memorial plonked in the very center. In a wide semi circle was a curving line of stone cottages placed side by side, the air caught the grass in front of them and made the blades shiver. The sky was the forget me not blue of distant dreams.

Chocolate box cottages Patsy called houses that looked like that. Their stone was a caramel brown and flaked with age. The roofs sagged on ancient joists. The doors were painted black or white with small fences pegged outside in tidy front gardens. The closest one had vegetables propped on a wooden box next to an honesty box.

Patsy stared through the front window not understanding.

About halfway into the semi circle, ensconced by their very own picket fence was what looked like a small explosion of colour. There were people waiting behind the gate. Patsys people or most of them anyway; Chummy holding Seppie on her shoulders, Fern, Trixie huddled by the doorway smoking lazily. There was even a homemade banner held high on wooden sticks that waved in the breeze.

The banner said ‘welcome home Patsy’.

Home?

Patsy turned to look at Helen who was watching her work mutely through the situation with so much love it was almost suffocating.

“Helen- What’s going on, why have we stopped?” But Patsy had a feeling she knew already. It was impossible and yet- They were all there... Bar one.

Helen didn’t reply immediately, she raised a finger to ask for patience and leant over Patsy to open the glove box; the sound of a hand rattling around general detritus hit the air. Then Helen was pulling back again, something small glinting from the end of her finger where she’d hooked it. Keeping Patsys gaze Helen held it aloft to rotate on its tiny chain; a fat silver key.

“It’s a fresh start Pats. For everyone; it was the girls idea really.”

“I... You did this for me?” Patsy asked weakly, eyeing the key waiting to be taken in shock. Helen cocked her head and swung the key around her finger happily.

“We all did it for you Pats. Everyone helped. You're more popular than you think, I've been telling you that for years; it's long time you started believing me.”

“Everyone?” Pasty stuttered. Delia- Was Delia here? Patsy opened her mouth to ask the question burning her tongue but the passenger side door was suddenly ripped open and Fern launched herself straight into Patsys surprised arms. Her twig legs were sharp points on Platys thighs as she jostled and shouted incomprehensible words.

"You're home! You're home Pats!"

Her exuberance was so palpable that Patsy hardly noticed how badly it hurt to take someone’s weight.

“Patsy! The look on your face! You should see it” Fern laughed into Patsys neck, her breaths puffing against Patsys skin as the teen clambered onto her lap clumsily and beamed at Helen with a conspiratorial wink.

“Operation badger is officially complete ma'am!” Fern shouted the nonsense with pleasure. Patsy watched bemused at Helen and Fern high fived across the gear stick.

“The eagle has landed.” Helen agreed with impressive formality.

“Helen didn’t tell you did she?’ Fern asked Patsy turning fretful as Patsy hadn't spoken, ‘this was a surprise wasn’t it! You’re definitely surprised aren’t you? We’ve been working on it all week, are you surprised? You love it right? We totally got you off guard?”

“I’ll say.’ Patsy mumbled, her attention diverted as Seppie began walking towards them, daintily trudging through the grass beside Chummys rolling shadow, holding the woman’s hand. ‘I don’t know what to say, how did you manage it you clever girls?”

“It was nothing.’ Fern said modestly although she preened a little under Patsys soft gaze like a plant under a kind sun. ‘We went to your house and it was pretty obvious it wasn’t big enough and no one knew what to do but then Helen spoke to Chummy and Chummy said she’d already told you about this house. She let us come and see it and then this old cop lady turned up and said she’d help us with whatever we needed. Phyllis called her.”

“Phyllis called Ursula?” Patsy enquired surprised, throwing a questioning look at Helen.

“They’re old friends apparently. It's wonderful.” Helen answered without a great deal of sincerity and a tight smile that didn’t last very long.

“And then loads of people turned up!' Fern exclaimed with relish not noticing, 'the garden was all over grown and we were trying to sort it out but we didn’t have the tools and we didn't know when they'd let you go so a load of cops turned up and did it for us. We’ve got a tree house!’ Ferns voice was shrill like she’d been dying to tell Patsy this fact. ‘And the shower was all mouldy and Phyllis tried getting it all out but this fire lady heard about it somehow and she turned up with her truck and they just put a new one in. Can you believe it? A whole new shower. And then you didn’t have enough furniture and stuff to fill the house and Helen said she’d try to find bits online but Delias been helping sort things for us too every day after school and when she heard she gave us loads of stuff Pats. She said she didn’t need it anymore; we’ve all got new beds and everything. We’ve even got WiFi! Can you believe it? And me and Seppie went to the shop and we got loads of food Pats. There’s tons of it. Helen says we can eat whenever we like; it’s mental.”

“It sounds it.” Patsy said bemused by Ferns obvious show of happiness. It made Patsys chest hurt to see the unconscious joy in the kids face but it wasn’t due to her lung this time. Heart. Hers. Everywhere.

Chummy had made it over to the car door finally and her large hand held it open so that Seppie could peer in at her sister and Patsy.

“Everything tip top old thing?” Chummy said keenly and Patsy nearly sagged with gratitude, her mouth tripping open as she tried to absorb the magnitude of what everyone had done.

“Chummy you absolute angel. You’ve helped do all this... I can’t... You really have no idea how much this means.”

“Nil disperandum constable. It really wasn’t any trouble.”

“But... Rent?’ Patsy tried to work out how people like Chummy survived. She was too kind. ‘How much do I owe you?”

“Well.’ Chummy coughed looking sheepish. ‘Nothing Pats. I took the liberty of putting your property on my books. The rent to that will pay for this one and of course if you want to move back we can just swap ownership over. Does that sound alright? The girls were so keen to make it a surprise that I thought we could have a gentleman’s agreement until legalities were arranged.”

“No,’ Patsys face felt hot as she flushed with thanks, ‘no of course I don’t mind. That’s... You guys are amazing.”

“Come inside!’ Ferns hand gripped Patsys tightly as she started backing out of the car. ‘Come on, wait 'til you see our rooms! They’re huge Pats, we’ve got wardrobes. Actual wardrobes!”

Patsy allowed herself to be propelled forward by Fern while Helen went to the boot and retrieved her bags and Seppie followed at a more sedate pace.

The house was faintly golden in the midsummer light, the curling smoke from Trixies cigarette met them at the door as did Trixie who’s lips twitched as she watched Patsy come nearer, her arm clutched tightly by Fern.

“Good to see you back in the land of the living sweetie.” Trixie murmured when Patsy clapped her hurriedly on the shoulder.

"Good to be back Trix." Patsy replied distractedly, stalling as they paused on the threshold, trying not to be too overt as she glanced around, looking for a flash of dark hair. Hoping for the one final piece to the puzzle to materialise and make the moment perfect... 

"What is it?' Trixie asked following Patsys eyes shrewdly, 'expecting someone else?"

Patsy met Trixies look as blankly as she could though something inside her faltered and paced restlessly in her head. Delia. Patsy wanted Delia.

"No.' Patsy sighed sadly, 'no, of course not."

"Pats!' Fern whined at her elbow, her eyes alight with impatience at the interruption to her plans. 'Come and see inside, we've been working on it for ages."

Ferns pulling was insistent and Patsy found it impossible not to catch the infectious eagerness despite her own reservations.

Inside the cottage it smelled of fresh paint and hard work. The walls were old plaster baked onto wood and it bowed in places but the surface was smooth and there were pictures hung in the larger blank spaces. The door led them into a bright and wonderfully clean kitchen, big enough for a table Patsy recognised as hers to rest in the middle of it. The table was half covered with party food and at its centre was one of the biggest chocolate cakes Pasty had every encountered bearing an inexpertly hand iced slogan of; ‘Happy homecoming’. Patsy also noticed, because she was good at that, that there was a tiny patch missing in the corner of the cake like a small mouth had nibbled it. Glancing wryly at Seppie she spotted wisps of chocolate around her mouth. Seeing Patsy looking at her Seppie grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

“ **You took time Red. I was hungry.”**

Patsy nodded. Yes. She had taken a very long time to get to this point.

Moving through the kitchen they reached a stout living room. Here Patsy didn’t recognise anything; it all seemed new to her. Sofas, rug, lamps. There wasn’t a flash of beige amongst any of it and although they were all clearly second hand and a little shabby in places the place looked cosy. It looked warm, it looked like a real home. Patsy had the sensation of swallowing something a bit too big again as she heard Helen humming under her breath and Seppies feet against the floor.

They all trooped upstairs in the end; Fern was too desperate to show off her bedroom to wait. Her new room would have been pretty ordinary to the common eye but to the teenager who had known nothing it must have been as impressive as a palace. Someone had given her Patsys old bed and Fern couldn't stop pointing it out. Patsy didn't mind the new ownership but she couldn't prevent herself from thinking about Val as she took in the pine bedposts. She hoped to God someone had found a new mattress. Seppies room came next, here the walls were a vivid pink and someone, Patsy would have to find out who they were so she could thank them in person, had donated a little drawing easel with a stack of paper and pencils. Seppie seemed to have been working on something when they entered but when Patsy tried to steal a look the girl saw her and squealed loudly signing emphatically.

 **“No. It not done.”** She grumped and Patsy had backed off obediently.

Then it was Patsy bedroom. This had been left mainly bare and Patsy blushed to imagine Helen or God forbid anyone else routing round her bedroom cupboards. The bed in here wasn’t actually new although it wasn’t hers. Patsy paused as she poked her head around the door and realised who must have given it. Delia had gifted her spare bed to the cause; Patsy felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remembered sleeping in it last... The not sleeping part. She could only hope there was some kind of message to that gift even if Delia hadn't wanted to be here to see Patsy return.

Once the bathroom and the bedrooms had been adequately admired Seppie grew bored and took a turn at pulling Patsy around.

“I got something to show you Red.” Was all she’d say as she motioned for Patsy to follow her.

Patsy was back downstairs this time, her eyes taking in more details that she hadn’t had time to notice yet as Seppie towed her through the living room with an apparently clear goal in mind. Through the living room was a little porch and a battered looking wooden back door.

The door was old, the frame around it low enough that Patsy would probably have to remember to duck a little when she went through. The door itself seemed of little interest to the assembled watchers but the reason for Seppies interest was obvious.

 **“This’** Seppie signed very seriously, her skinny hand reaching to touch the bottom of the door with an element of ceremony. **‘Is a cat flap Red.”**

As if to illustrate the point Seppie pushed against the flap so that it waved just out of sight. The wood went _skpt_ as it flapped.

 **“That’s good Curly.”** Patsy signed, unable to stop the curve of her lips as Seppie continued to stare at her expectantly.

 **“It is for cats.”** Seppie signed patiently as though worried Patsy was missing her meaning. Patsy nodded, schooling her features into a politely interested mask.

**“I know that.”**

The cat flap flapped a little harder.

 **“Or a dog.** ’ Seppie continued gravely, **‘a small dog. Or a duck. Or many ducks.”**

 **“I can see you been thinking about this.”** Patsy offered calmly. From behind them Patsy heard the others laughing behind their hands. That cat flap looked suspiciously new too in comparison to the rest of the door. Perhaps this had been a project some gullible fool was pulled into while the house was being decorated. Patsys money was on Chummy, the woman was too soft for a pro like Seppie.

 **“I’m not saying we have to get a dog for me.** ’ Seppie stated reflectively, **‘but I think the house needs one, the flap needs to be used or it will stop working.”**

 **“And that would be bad?”** Patsy hazarded, amused despite herself. Seppie sucked at her lip letting the flap swing under her hand for the look of the thing.

 **“I think so. Yes.”** Seppie concluded appearing as care worn as a petulant housewife by the needs of the property that Patsy broke and laughed out loud, squatting down to pull the kid into her arms and tickling her ribs until she was red in the face.

 **“I tell you what.’** Patsy signed when the girl had caught her breath, **‘when my chest better then we talk again. I don’t want to make the house sad.”**

 **“You saying yes?”** Seppie enquired quickly, her eyes pleading and Patsy shook her head ruefully. Ruined by a pint sized con artist.

**“I think about saying yes.”**

This seemed to satisfy Seppie who smirked over Patsys shoulder towards Fern who was rolling her eyes.

 **“See. She say she think about it.”** She repeated smugly to Fern who shook her head.

“Pats you absolute weakling, she’ll walk all over you now.” Fern warned although she was barely holding back her own smile. 

Patsy took in the scene very sharply. She looked from Helen who was watching from the living room, to Seppie who was smiling from ear to ear in the circle of her arms and then Fern who looked embarrassed at her guardians weakness but pleased all the same and felt her qualms about this situation fade away.

Family. Home. Hers.

“I think I can take that.” Patsy declared breezily.

She really could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour,
> 
> Fluff. I wrote fluff. This whole thing is purely for my own despicable desire for fluff really, apologies if it doesn't quite meet others standards but coming from me this is as sweet as tooth decay considering my track record. I'll be honest I'm still not not a 100% satisfied with it as a whole but quite frankly if I expected you lot to wait for me to be actually pleased with what I produce we'd still be on chapter three. Also; this whole chapter really keeps hitting me as rushed but dear God I hate editing, if i do it too much I start cutting massive swathes of chapter which kills me inside so I'm posting it in the hope its less shit to your eyes than it is to mine. Hope its alright in this respect and there's enough bread crumbs for people to see where I'm going with this. AND Delias still around people, see what I did there, she just can't meet Patsy face to face because shes a hot mess; unfortunately for her Pasty knows where she works though so that's happening whether shes ready or not.
> 
> I'm also trying to finish the last chapter (above mentioned discussion between our two girls) and the stand alone Helen and Phyllis date this week hence the delay in posting; want this bad boy done and dusted by next week. In regards to anyone wanting to read H&P's date (its not really necessary for the plot of P&D but these two have got a life of their own in my head atm) I'm hoping to post that on the 'add on to old tides' fic so keep your eyes peeled; hopefully I'll get it finished by Saturday at the very latest and sooner if i can find time. One chapter on this fic left, oosh!
> 
> Banana out.
> 
> Addendum: P&Hs date can be found here https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039204/chapters/34635183. 
> 
> Slartybartfast this is NSFW and you don’t need to read it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,  
> Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
> The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
> Of night and light and the half-light;  
> I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
> But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
> I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
> Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
> 
> The cloths of heaven, WB Yeats.

The next few weeks were some of the strangest of Patsys life. Barely out of a coma and suddenly she found herself tumbling head first into a twilight world full of small pairs of socks hanging on the washing line and sticky kisses that tasted like strawberry lollies before bed. To Patsys complete surprise she found that she quite liked it and... even stranger; she was good at it. She was good at being someone’s person. She was good with the girls, she made them laugh and every time she managed it a small part of her seemed to melt away.

She’d never before imagined she’d be good at this sort of thing, she’d always assumed her breeding would flare out if she dared anything as insane as motherhood. The marks of Abraham that were built into every cell in her body would activate somehow, the monster inside of her would finally appear and then they’d all know just who she really was. They’d hate her for it.

But it hadn’t. It hadn’t happened like that and she was still Patsy Mount. She was still just Patsy even when Fern broke a mug or Seppie had a tantrum and that seemed to be more than enough for everyone apparently.

Even so there were still difficulties to manoeuvre around that she hadn’t imagined. Patsy had never been a loner per se before recent events but she’d certainly always preferred her own company if she had a choice. She liked the solitude. It just got messy when you started adding too many people into one life she’d reasoned and because of that she’d stayed out of hot spots, content to listen to the voices in her own head. Obviously she’d never quite reached the heady lifestyle of your average mountain hermit but she supposed now it must have seemed quite a lonely life from the outside.

Had been a bit lonely on the inside too if she thought about it much now.

She’d always had Helen and Trixie to visit for an evening though if she felt a pressing need for conversation outside her own home and she’d had work, she’d had a well ordered routine. Life wasn’t like that now though. Life was spun upside down and pulled inside out and it was new and jarring at times.

Now, she was practically swimming in people. Visitors! If she sat up too quickly she wouldn’t be surprised to see visitors tumble out from behind the sofa. They were everywhere; well wishers and do gooders and one or two reporters Helen had had to shoo away from the back door. It was overwhelming, exhausting and although Patsy appreciated everyone’s input she would have preferred it if they backed off for a bit. She needed the time to get used to having the girls and God knew the girls needed a bit of quiet themselves after everything they’d been through. She liked to think that she was handling things quite well all things considered but even she’d had one or two moments where she’d been forced to lock herself in the toilet just to get her bearings again. 

Helen, Phyllis and Trixie were not counted in the unwelcome group. 

Phyllis got a free pass even though she hadn’t done the time with Patsy simply because she seemed to be perpetually glued to Helens side at the minute. Patsy didn’t really mind, she found quickly that she quite liked the stoic northerner. Phyllis was a constant bustling thrum of energy that balanced nicely to Helens more placid outlook. The pair suited one another well and Helen couldn’t seem to stop grinning which was all Patsy needed to see to be content with the situation although it was amusing to watch her mother, a usually reserved woman, lose herself in a kind of teenage love. A few times now Patsy had been sat on the sofa with Seppie starfished out over her knees while the older generations muffled giggles wisped out from the kitchen.

The kids adored them both too which helped; they’d not had grandparents before and to see Helen dote on Seppie and Phyllis try and help Fern kit out her tree house made Patsys chest flush with warmth. Family. Patsy had a family now.

Well, almost a family. There was room for one more perhaps... If, if she wanted it that was.

There was someone missing, someone Patsy wished would turn up soon because the suspense of waiting was killing her.

Because Delia hadn’t visited yet.

Delia hadn’t called.

Delia- Delia, Delia, Delia. Delia was nowhere to be seen.

She was definitely not dead though; the only excuse Patsy would accept for the continued absence without a doctors note. Patsy was trying as hard as she could not to be too obvious when she asked Phyllis about Delia and Phyllis answered all of her questions easily enough. Delia was apparently selling furniture, moving somewhere smaller now that Jessie was dead. Jessie’s funeral had been almost a week ago and Delia had been busy sorting it all out with Jessie’s mother. Tied down by duty.

Jessie’s mother. Patsys aunt.

Patsy was choosing not to fall down this particular rabbit hole at the moment; she didn’t think she could stand meeting any more long lost relatives any time soon. She didn’t have the fingers to lose again.

But why was Delia moving? Where to? What was happening? Why hadn’t she called? All of these questions Patsy didn’t ask Phyllis. She didn’t want Phyllis to answer them, she wanted Delia to do it. She needed Delia to explain herself. She needed Delia. 

Delia was down according to Phyllis. Not eating and not talking in the staff room. Phyllis was worried about her. Patsy was worried too but she refused to admit it in front of Phyllis and by association Helen. She wasn’t sure what Helen would say to Patsy about it all if Patsy asked her advice. Hell, Patsy didn’t know what she’d say if someone else brought this sort of drama to her door.

Even so Phyllis’s description and the complete lack of contact chaffed at Patsy when she was least expecting it. Her silent ruminations jumping out on her and cutting her breath short with suspended grief.

Like last week for instance. One of the unwelcome visitors had turned up on her door. Again.

Alice appeared to have had some kind of head transplant since hearing of Patsys adventures. According to the mousy desk sergeant Patsy was the hot piece of gossip in the station. Everyone was aware of what had happened in the commune apparently; Patsy seemed to be viewed as some big hero by the rest of the cops. She’d saved almost seventy people. She’d brought down an internal affairs before it hit the big news. She’d nearly been killed doing it. Patsy reasoned to herself that nearly dying a few times probably should give her some kind of pay off reputation wise but if the good news had to result in Alice suddenly doing a 180 degree turnaround in her attitude towards Patsy then perhaps it was true what people said; every silver lining has a pushy lesbian cloud.

Alice had turned up for the first time two days after Patsy got home. It had been late. Thankfully the girls had already been in bed, the newness of it all still exciting enough to entice them to sleep without too much pushing and Trixie had just been packaged into a late night taxi, half pissed. Patsy had been padding around her new kitchen, trying to decide where everything should go. A small part of her aware that she was foolishly deluding herself into thinking that if she could only make it look cosy when Delia came then maybe... Maybe Delia would want to stay more.

Trixie called that sort of thing feng shui, Patsy called it OCD and stupidity.

Alice had knocked on the door with urgent little taps, the darkness of the night hanging around her pretty dress and curled hair. She’d just about fallen into Patsys confused arms when Patsy first opened the door, her gasp of surprise and shock echoing strangely in the silence. The feel of someone falling into Patsys arms might have been quite nice if the woman in question had been the one Patsy was so worried about. Alice wasn’t Delia though and she’d barrelled so hard, her hands digging into Patsys chest that Patsy had nearly doubled over in agony as her wound split and seeped into the fabric of her shirt in protest. 

Things had just got worse from there. Alice had been doing some soul searching apparently. Patsy had refrained from telling her she needn’t have bothered because she wasn’t on the market; it seemed harsh to say it. Alice had decided that she had misjudged Patsy, she had been too quick to assume she was immature and what had happened between them had been over long enough that it was time to build bridges and hearing that Patsy had taken on two orphans was just heartbreaking and she, Patsy, surely must need some help and Alice wanted to be that help. On and on it had gone, Patsy listening to someone else’s monologue in a fug of exhaustion.

Patsy had made a cuppa out of a desire to kill the conversation dead in the end but Alice had stayed close, gripping Patsys wrist a little too tightly. Patsy had only got free by saying she needed air all the while wondering how Alice hating Patsy for fucking Alice’s cousin could have been a misjudgement on the woman’s part. It was probably one of her more clarity driven decisions really.

Still, Alice continued to steam roller on about her feelings (confused but hopeful), her dreams (Patsy had been a bit overwhelmed by this stage in the conversation but she gathered enough to know she was involved somehow in this) and second chances (Patsy had started to panic at this point). In the end Patsy had patted the woman’s shoulder awkwardly and with as much subtlety as she could muster encouraged Alice to go home. It was late and Patsy was tired.

Alice had seemed a bit taken aback by this because... Yeah, maybe Patsys self control wasn’t all that legendary in these sorts of situations and Patsy had braced herself for some kind of tantrum but Alice had just glanced at the door to the stairs her eyes filling with quite unnecessary tears for the situation from Patsys perspective and said something about, ‘probably best they take things slowly.’

She’d tried to kiss Patsy on the way out and Patsy had ducked away as nicely as she could, her stomach burning as a well of guilt told her she was cheating somehow. Alice had frowned even more about this but seemed to take it as a sign of Patsys developing need to be an adult and had accepted it.

Patsy had waved her off, her heart sinking slightly. Alice had turned up twice more since then and Patsy was doing her best to be friendly but platonic. This didn’t seem to be working very well. Alice was texting Patsy every day though Patsy hadn’t given her her new number and she was hinting heavily about wanting to meet the girls. If Alice didn’t calm down a little bit Patsy was very worried she’d have to be brutally honest.

Alas, Patsy could foresee another knife winging its way through the post at work again no matter what she did because she knew she didn’t want Alice. She could only hope Alice didn’t decide to cut out the middle man this time and give Patsys a set of matching scars.

As for any other unexpected visitors; Kim had been round too and that had been... Not so much awkward as a total cock up from start to finish. 

Patsy couldn’t understand the stocky woman, she just seemed totally uninterested in bothering with the most basic social niceties. It was sort of endearing and then irritating at the same time.

Kim had arrived still in her work kit and boots, hair dusty with ash and the smell of smoke clinging to her skin. Patsy had been cleaning up after tea while the girls were in the garden. Kim had let herself into the house without knocking first, apparently unconcerned that everyone in it might not take too kindly to a stranger entering unannounced. 

Fern had seen Kim before Patsy had through the back door window which admittedly set the tone for the entire interaction. Fern had recognised the woman at once for who she was and what she stood for and she had shouted blue murder for twenty minutes because of it, her rage sudden and insurmountable as she tried to break past Patsys restraining arms to lash out at Kim.

“You let my mum die!” 

Kim had remained standing where she was, face impassive even when Patsy had managed to regain control of the situation and encouraged a puce coloured Fern to go back into the garden on the orders to keep an eye on Seppie. Patsy had been wiped out from the tussle, her back sweaty and her breathing laboured so she’d ended up sat at the kitchen table with Kim who made tea for them both without being asked. Kim didn’t blink as much as other people and she didn’t smile much either. Patsy had shifted around for quite a while waiting for her to do something to react to until Kim had decided to speak. She’d given Patsy a book, something she’d picked out with obvious thought though it was passed across the table with little ceremony. Patsy had looked down perplexed at a brand new copy of Doctor Spocks guide to child rearing. Still had the price on the back.

“I thought you could use it.’ Kim had explained placidly. ‘It’s not about Star Trek if you’re worried, I checked at the counter.”

Patsy hadn’t known what to say to that, taken aback at the thoughtfulness mixed through the awkward so she’d made a show of flicking through the book while Kim looked around the kitchen with interest. Her booted feet under the table had been crossed at the ankle and they’d kept brushing Patsys every now and again. Patsy couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or not.

“I never did get to see your old house. You never invited me round. You’re tidy aren’t you? S’ nice.” Kim had noted blithely and Patsy had blushed though she couldn’t have explained to herself why.

They’d muddled through twenty more minutes of talk. Not small talk exactly because Kim didn’t seem able to do that. She was blunt and soft in equal measure and it made the conversation stilted. Kim seemed to be there for something specific though even if Patsy couldn’t really see what that was. The conversation had been circular and dull; weather, bruises and work. When Fern had stomped back inside the house though, her face thunderous as she took in Kim still at the table, Patsy had decided it was time for Kim to leave. Kim had done so with a tight nod at Fern who’s lips curled at the motion as she’d turned her back to the grown ups with a huff.

Patsy had speedily shown Kim the door at that point and waited to wave her off. As Kim had passed Patsy she’d stopped and, without any warning, wrapped both arms round Patsys waist very tight and hugged her so hard purple spots of light had flared behind Patsys eyes. She’d been breathless and stumbling, caught off guard for once when Kim had let go and Kim had smiled a little to see it.

“I’m very glad you’re not dead you know Mount.” Was all she’d said as she stepped out into the day. Patsy had watched her go in a mingle of confusion and pleasure that the two of them seemed to have found a kind of middle ground even if she hadn’t really been fussed if they found one in the first place.

Odd though.

She’d told Trixie about it the next night. Trixie had been sipping her obligatory bottle of wine while she listened and she’d rolled her eyes good naturedly when Patsy had finished muttering something about it never raining but pouring.

And now it was a late sunny Friday afternoon in the half way mark of July. The streets holding their breath as the last tolls of the school bell died in the wind and the summer holidays finally started. Patsy had casually mentioned a summer holiday somewhere different a few days ago to the girls, a part of her hoping for peace in anonymity and Seppie seemed to be completely enthralled with the concept of travelling out of town. The furthest she’d ever been from Poplar had been the trip to A&E. She didn’t believe Patsy that there were things like mountains outside of her picture books.

Patsy was standing shoulder to shoulder with Helen in the doorway to the living room, peering in on the scene within with the surreal trickling of pleasure that was constantly present these days as she took in the sound of Seppies heavy breaths. Seppie was concentrating hard on flexing her fingers slowly to demonstrate a single word. Phyllis hmming right beside her. Both of them locked in ferocious concentration. 

Phyllis was fascinated by sign and seemed quite committed to learning as quickly as she could. Seppie was just as keen to teach her.

Patsy tracked Seppies frame, taking in bony show of sharp collar poking above the neckline of her yellow vest, the few wisps of black curls that had escaped the braid hanging around the curve of her ears and mingling with the dewy sweat from the days heat. The unlikely pair sat cross legged on the carpet bathed in the goldish light of sun that sprayed in from the windows and back door. Seppie kept swiping at the tendrils of hair every few seconds without thinking and Patsy knew she wanted her face free, her pink tongue pressed against her white teeth as she grinned moonish bright at Phyllis. 

The braids kept catching Patsys eye as she watched them though.

Patsy sighed ruefully to herself so quietly no one else would hear her. It wasn’t the best of braids she knew, Patsy wasn’t very good at them yet, her fingers handicapped by lack of experience and being a digit down and she’d made them too loose this morning as Seppie fidgeted distractedly on the end of her bed, anxious for Patsy to stop fussing and be up and doing. Patsy needed to learn more; she’d bookmarked some videos on YouTube but thus far hadn’t had the energy to devote to the task. Seppie didn’t seem to mind much but other people did.

Well, Helen did anyway.

Helen had tutted when she’d arrived earlier as she brushed a palm across the girls fuzzy head and raised a quizzical brow at Patsy before sighing and saying resignedly that she’d redo them before she left. Patsy was trying very hard to feel grateful for the intervention rather than resentful. It was annoying though to have her deficiencies noted and tutted at so easily.

She was trying dammit.

Helen shifted beside her and Patsy swapped her gaze from her child to her mother who stood with her arms half folded, her shoulder resting lightly on the door frame. Helen didn’t feel Patsys eyes, she was too enthralled with the room, with the scene before her to take in Patsys interest. Her own eyes watched with a kind of fervour, the dark iris’s darker than they should be and her mouth just a little open in a tiny o that she didn’t seem to be even aware of. Hungry.

She looked well, her skin shone very bright and there was a new set to her shoulders. They didn’t slump like they usually did. She looked so content that Patsy wondered if some of it would rub off on her if she stayed close enough, she wondered if the aura of happiness would cut through her secret melancholy.

“Helen, are you happy?” Patsy asked suddenly, wanting to fill her head with something besides her own tired monologue, she raised her hand and gripped the older woman’s shoulder gently, feeling the slight give of soft flesh there. The softness that had grown over the years between them. Helen shifted at the touch looking startled as though she’d quite forgotten Patsy was even there. Patsy grinned despite herself; the small teenager that lived in Patsys soul still half in love with Helen felt a little smug at catching her off guard.

“Happy?’ Helen repeated slowly, taking in Patsys question carefully before smiling so broadly her white teeth flashed daringly against her dark lip. ‘Of course I’m happy sweetheart, I’m home.”

Home? Patsy flicked back to Phyllis who was now laboriously signing a misshaped word to Seppie who snorted in amusement and reached to rearrange the older woman’s fingers and correct their placements.

“I’m glad. Phyllis seems really nice.”

“She’s wonderful.’ Helen hmmd happily, her eyes back on the room as though to go too long without looking was impossible. ‘And she’s so keen to learn sign. She’s always had a soft spot for little ones. It’s why she picked primary school and why I didn’t.”

“Seppie likes her too.” Patsy said off hand watching as Phyllis tried the sign again and Seppie waved her hands in congratulations that told them all she’d done it right. Patsy picked out the word Dog with mild amusement and realised her daughter was more than likely prepping another ally in her campaign to fill the house with pets.

“And you?’ Helens voice was quieter, only for Patsy now. ‘Are you happy Pats?”

Patsy felt herself brought back to the present brutally, she bristled at the question, her face emptying the way it used to when she was fourteen and Helen asked her some easy sum in class, trying to pull her out of her shell. Helen seemed to recognise it because she huffed and raised a thumb and forefinger to pinch Patsys cheek affectionately. Patsy deflated at the touch, at the gentle reminder that Helen was allowed to ask her these things. She had the right.

“Course I am. I’ve got everything I could ever ask for. I’m a long way past happy.” Patsy mumbled quickly, quietly, wanting Helen to move on, to not pick at where it hurt while the idea of Delia swam in her head. 

Most people would have moved off at that, would have let the matter lie. Patsys face told the world not to ask. But then again, if Helen was the sort of woman who backed away when Patsy shut down then Patsy wouldn’t be here in the first place, she wouldn’t be the Patsy who had taken on the girls. She would still be fourteen and hitting the world before it could hit her. She was Helens girl through and through and Helen knew Patsy too well. 

“Phyllis says Delias been out of sorts... Has she been in touch with you?” Helen was watching Patsy delicately, her smile coaxing and Patsy couldn’t meet it. 

A fist was crushing her tongue so she looked down at her hand instead, feigning interest in the raw stump of her middle finger. The skin was red still, would probably stay red for a long time before the rough scar paled and faded. Nothing to be done about the missing part though. That was gone forever. Patsy rubbed her undamaged thumb along the distorted edge and directed her words to that.

“No, I suppose... I suppose she must be really busy, no reason to visit me is there? Probably wants to forget me after... Everything.” Patsy forced indifference, she didn’t want to feel this kind of thing in front of Helen. She didn’t do this sort of nonsense, not for anyone would she allow herself to feel so... Empty. 

She couldn’t stop herself from missing Delia. God, missing someone she’d known such a short amount of time was so pathetic. She should be getting over it already. Letting Alice play nursemaid maybe. She should be doing what she always did to try and ignore feelings until the went away but every time she tried she’d end up remembering and then the ache bloomed and bit deep. 

Delia. Delia, Delia, Delia and where was she?

Patsy was off and on nursing a mad urge to go to the school and force a meeting more than a few mornings when she heard the slight toll of the bell. Twice she’d actually got as far as her front door, the weight of house keys digging into her hands before she’d lost her nerve. Because... What would she say? Delia hadn’t called, she’d maintained radio silence and all Patsy could do was respect it. Even if it was killing her.

In the end it probably shouldn’t surprise her she thought bitterly, no one ever chose Patsy. Why would they?

“Have you tried calling her?” Helen pulled Patsy back to the here and now and Patsy shook her head violently, glaring at her hand, willing herself not to let the feelings make their way onto her face.

“No.” End of transmission. Move on.

“Oh Pats,’ Helen shook her head despairingly at her daughter. Patsy felt her bottom lip push out sullenly in unconscious response to the accusatory tone. ‘Why ever not you silly girl?”

Patsy stepped back so her face was hidden better by the shadows in the hall just in case Seppie looked up and ran her hand across her ravaged scalp in frustration.

“Because it wouldn’t do any good Helen, that’s why not... It’s not simple, I wouldn’t know how to start and besides...’ Patsy let the twinge of pain flash just for a second. ‘She knows where I am. If she wanted to see me she would have already.”

“And what if she’s sitting somewhere waiting for you?’ Helen had slid back too to stay at Patsys side and her tone was exasperated which didn’t help Patsys surging urge to switch off. ‘Honestly. I’ll never understand you sometimes. You do like this woman don’t you?”

Patsy looked back down at her fingers awkwardly. She didn’t want to reply but Helens foot tapped on the floor irritably and demanded something from her.

“I... I thought we were sort of fond of each other.” Patsy mumbled, her ears reddening as she voiced a smidgeon of the weight in her chest. Helen tutted.

“Fond of each other?’ Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Sometimes I think you must think I was born yesterday my girl. You forget I saw her while you were... Unwell.’ Helen paled for a moment and her throat bobbed as she remembered Patsy lying in a hospital bed but she recovered well. ‘That girl was just as worried as the rest of us. Worse maybe; she seemed to think you would hold it all against her. Now I don’t pretend to know what’s gone on or why you’re both acting like a pair of fools but I’ve had enough of the moping from you.”

“I haven’t been moping.” Patsy defended sulkily as a small part of her mulled Helens suggestion that Delia thought Patsy might blame her. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly think- Helen cut through these thoughts though as she waved a hand to stop Patsy saying any more, on too good of a roll to be slowed.

“Moping Patience. I’ve never seen you like this and that tells me you’re a little more than fond of the woman. For Gods sake lass it’s 2018! You don’t have to walk away from The One if that’s what she is, you can go and get her. Right this minute.”

“Jesus,’ Patsy decided she’d had enough of a pep talk and strove to keep her face nonchalant. ‘Phyllis must be one hell of a lay, I’ve never seen you so bloody optimistic. You’ll be getting me to pop the question any minute if you don’t calm down.”

Helen paused, her face momentarily surprised and then she sighed and rested her head on Patsys shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the intended distraction as Patsy wanted her to.

“I just know what I saw.’ She muttered ominously. ‘I know you and I know you’ve finally found someone who can throw you off course. Now that Patience, is a woman in a million and I just don’t want to see you walk away because... You’re scared of being brave. You’ve achieved so much and I’m proud of you but I want...’ Helens eyes had found Phyllis again and her tone softened as she did it without her apparently realising. ‘I want you to have as long as you can to be in love. It’s hard... Waiting for the right one to cross your path. I don’t want you to be my age and regret what you should have done.”

Patsy refrained from rolling her eyes. Helen had said all of this before and the only difference between now and then was... Patsy finally wanted to believe it a little.

“What if she doesn’t think I’m the One?’ Patsy said dully, her shoulders heavy. ‘After everything that’s happened... After Abraham, why would she want me?” Patsy had to ask because Helen was the only one who would understand. Helen bit her lip for a moment and then turned to Patsy with fire in her eyes.

“Because,’ she said ferociously, ‘you are not to blame and if she can’t see that then you’ll simply have to make her see it. You have to tell her how you feel Pats. Life isn’t a fairy tale, it takes effort on both sides.”

Patsy balked at Helens unexpected fervour and tried to shrug it off.

“I’ll... think about it? Can I?”

Helen raised her eyebrow and sighed before stepping forward again, her voice turning brisk.

“You can think about it today, we’re taking the girls off your hands for the afternoon.”

“You are?” Patsy asked faintly amused by her mother’s pushiness.

“We are, when we come back I shall expect to see some developments.”

“Or what?’ Patsy teased, ignoring the way her stomach clenched. ‘Will you make me take out a lonely hearts add? Digitally challenged lesbian mother of two seeking hopeless dreamer to save her?”

“I’ve said my part and now I’m going to get the girls ready.” Was all Helen would say, her jaw set in the hard way it did when she was decided on something. Patsy didn’t have the heart to tell her she was fighting a losing battle and watched her stride away to start gathering shoes and bags from the rack near the front door.

—

Twenty minutes later and they were all gone. The girls organised into readiness much quicker than Patsy could have done. Patsy waited until the ponderous sounds of everyones voices had drifted away from the front door and spread out across the village green before she breathed out a sigh of relief where she stood alone in her house for the very first time in days. Weeks.

Slowly Patsy looked around her, taking in the small details that were her life now.

The house was a bloody great whacking mess and it looked back at her; begging her to make it right again. She’d told herself when Helen mentioned giving her the afternoon off that she’d blitz it the second she was alone but as she stood in her living room she felt tiredness overcome her nobler side. There was so much to do and nothing seemed to stay neat anymore. It was maddening!

Fern had been flicking through Patsys scant book collection this morning and a pile of them were clustered on the rug now, the spines splayed open, their pages crumpled. Seppies empty cereal bowl was wedged in the center of the sofa where she’d been sat eating Cheerios dry before Helen and Phyllis arrived. There was a cold cup of tea half drunk on the coffee table drifting amidst a few empty and torn chocolate bar wrappers that one of the girls must have swiped from the cupboard when Patsy wasn’t looking. Patsy sighed. She couldn’t be angry with that at least, it was taking longer than she thought it would for the girls to realise that they didn’t have to steal food to keep themselves going. For Fern in particular the habit was proving impossible to shake off; it was too ingrained.

Patsy pushed away these dark thoughts as she groaned at the mess and turned away from the tempting urge to kick back and lie down on the sofa. The books were hastily picked up and replaced on their shelf. The half drunk tea and the bowl were taken to the kitchen, Patsy dumped the wrappers in the bin on her way through. 

The kitchen was even more of a bomb site. The sides were sticky with spilt sugar from hastily made tea, more mugs sat in the washing up bowl as did two plates that must have held toast going from the thin layer of crumbs. The kitchen table was pock marked already from people not using the coasters Patsy left out for the purpose and Seppie had left two pairs of shoes under her chair. An annoying habit she seemed to have developed in a child like bid to flush out any latent clumsy bastards early in the morning. Patsy had nearly broken her neck twice so far.

Patsy let the tap run in the sink to wash up as she retrieved the shoes and put them back in the shoe rack where they belonged. She couldn’t help smiling as she did it, enjoying the weird domestic image, even though she knew she’d probably have to do this a lot. Seppie had never had more than one pair of shoes before now and she didn’t really know how to keep track of them properly. Seppie hated wearing anything on her feet in the house anyway, more used to being barefoot and it was as much as Patsy could do to make her slip sandals on when she played out in the garden. 

Patsy returned to the kitchen and busied herself with tidying. She left the washing up to drain on the board and swept and hoovered hurriedly, rolling her eyes when the hoover crackled menacingly as it hit patches of food crumbs here and there. Putting that away she bleached the table, letting the clinical smell of the detergent fill her brain and dissolve the tanin on the wood. Then she put the washing up away into their cupboards and wiped down the draining board.

By the time she’d finished she was red faced and sweating lightly, her hands zinging nicely from the bleach. She was out of breath too but ignored it. 

Her lungs still didn’t seem to be working properly but she wasn’t sure what else she could do to safely push herself at this stage. She was even finding the stairs hard going some days and that was unnerving. She was starting to be afraid that she might never get better and she’d mentioned it to Trixie the other night over a bottle of wine. Trixie had made a few suggestions, some helpful some not. Trixie had drunk most of the bottle as she did most evenings she was round now. Patsy had tucked furious masterbation away in her mental back pocket to save for a rainy day and considered the awful prospect of taking up some light exercise to start stretching her lung capacity. She needed to do something, the girls needed her to be on her toes. It wasn’t that they were too much for her exactly it was just that both of them were so full of boundless energy that Patsy, still broken inside no matter how hard she tried to power through, couldn’t match them at the minute. 

They were both constantly boiling over to see and do and touch and learn everything. Anything. It was exhausting. Lovely but exhausting.

It seemed to Patsy that both Seppie and Fern were like hot ingots of some precious material that life had tried to hammer into a predesigned mould. They were still shaped by their old experiences and always would be but their edges were soft, they were still willing to change. The rough would be smoothed with time and love and just enough patience and Patsy couldn’t stop herself from loving them even more than she had before despite the gaps in their general social graces. She secretly loved their wildness, their fearlessness. It would have been impossible not to love them though, especially given that both of the girls seemed so wholeheartedly committed to loving Patsy right back.

Seppie regularly hung around Patsys ankles and hips, her busy hands translating her thoughts to Patsy with relish as she learned what it felt like to not be ignored. In this house Patsy was determined the kid would always have a voice and it didn’t seem to take long for Seppie to learn she could shout with it. 

She was learning everything so fast. Her sign for instance was improving daily. Her sign hadn’t really been that bad at Allie and Micks all things considered, she’d always been bright and able to make her needs known when she had to, she’d just never had an adults full, undivided attention spent on her. She’d not had someone committed to helping her build the world up into solid gestures she could learn and use. The change and confidence boost in the girls demeanour was amazing. Patsy was now regularly wracking her brains to try and think of as many new words as she could and Seppie absorbed them all like a dry patch of soil finally watered. Soon enough Patsy supposed it would go the other way; Seppie showing Patsy new words.

Patsy spent a lazy moment imagining that, imagined Seppies pride at teaching Patsy something and smiled to herself. Seppie would love it.

Seppie would be going to Poplar primary school in September too, it was all arranged and Phyllis had even wrangled money from the council for an interpreter to support Seppie in classes. She’d have a fighting chance armed with that although Patsy worried about Seppie in school. Kids were little shits to anyone who looked different and she assumed Phyllis and by extension Helen would not be best pleased if Patsy beat up a five year old at the school gates for messing with her baby. 

A fine example that would set to Fern Pats, snarked the mental voice that always sounded like a disapproving Helen in Patsys head. Patsy let the smile drift off her face as she considered the point. She sighed. Fern.

Fern was clingy too but the teenager tried to hide it more than her baby sister did. She would hover uncertainly around Patsy like a fly worrying it’s way in a windowsill and then she’d forget herself and come closer to bump against Patsy or ask Patsy some pointless question Fern already knew the answer to just to have Patsy acknowledge her in some small way. Patsy got the why without asking and she felt a pang as she saw all the signs she’d known in herself not too long ago.

It was harder for Fern being here than it was for Seppie, it was hard for her to show what was going on in her head. To trust it all. She was nearly sixteen and it was an awkward age for anyone; somewhere closer to adulthood than childhood. Patsy understood it all too well, the confusion of being cared for and the constant urge to pull away just in case the care vanished. Fern was a born tough nut and Patsy tried not to smother the teenager too much, knowing she’d need her own space but she couldn’t stop herself from loading up Ferns plate at meal times or reaching to run her hand across the teenagers hair when they sat on the sofa or pulling her under her arm for a squeeze when they were standing near to each other. Every single time Fern would blush and look almost frightened at the unexpected affection but she wouldn’t pull away either, she’d just stay very stiff and still, her face a heartbreaking mix of confusion while Patsy feigned relaxation around her. Bit by bit they all learned each other.

It wasn’t always easy though. Nightmares prowled the small house in the wee hours and haunted them all. The nightmares were bad. 

Seppie struggled the hardest with such little sleep, her moods swung so wildly first thing in the mornings that if she hadn’t been five and demanding CBeebies like the a bristling pint sized dictator Patsy would have assumed she was suffering from some serious PMT. Patsy had had to put her on the sofa and coax her back to sleep to try and force a bit of sanity back into proceedings more than once. She might love the girls but Patsy was still Patsy and there was no way she was going to cave to a towering temper tantrum based on Seppie not being able to reach the remote quick enough or a favourite bowl not being clean. Patsy was starting to develop a new guilty appreciation for Helen at times like that. Patsy knew she’d probably been more of a handful than Seppie and Fern combined and she thought awkwardly that Helen might have had a point all those times she bitched about not having grey hair until she’d met Patsy.

And it wasn’t just the nightmares that were stressful, it was the substance of the dreams too. Seppie said she dreamt of fire but Patsy suspected it was more than that. She wasn’t sure how much Seppie had said to Fern about what happened in the flat, she wasn’t really sure how much Seppie had understood of what had happened in the confusion of smoke and heat but she didn’t think it was just fire that made Seppie scream at all hours of the night.

And she did scream, even though she couldn’t hear it herself, her disused tongue making the yelping calls for help without her knowledge. The screams were feral sounds that woke the whole house and made Patsys heart pound. Patsy was getting up two or three times a night on average and going in to Seppies room to find the child half asleep and confused as she sobbed inconsolably into Patsys neck about fires while Patsy rocked her back and forth in her arms like she could shake the pain clean out of Seppies head if she did it enough. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. 

When it didn’t and Seppie was clinging to her, sweaty faced and bawling, begging for help Patsy couldn’t push away the overwhelming feeling that she’d failed her. That this was all her fault. She hadn’t saved Allie or Mick and she hated herself for it. She’d let them all down. 

On those nights when exhaustion chewed at her Patsy brought Seppie into her own bed and that usually did the trick though Patsy didn’t sleep very much when this happened. Seppie was a wriggler and an unapologetic bed hog, technically a five year old child who was under weight and skinny for her age should not be able to take up an entire double bed but somehow physics seemed to have a blind spot where Seppie was concerned and Patsy would inevitably end up pressed against the sharp seam of her mattress with Seppies feet planted firmly against her back. Ten tiny toes curling against her spine.

Seppie wasn’t the only one either. Fern also had nightmares but she didn’t scream like Seppie did. She wet the bed though, too many nights to hide it. Patsy didn’t comment on it when she opened the washing basket on the stairs every morning and she washed the sheets and put them back on the teens bed as quickly as she could without asking the questions that she knew Fern didn’t want to answer. Still, Patsy watched the girl carefully as she walked around the house. It worried Patsy the way Fern would withdraw sometimes without warning and after a fortnight without any sign of the sleepless nights and extra laundry slowing down she’d broken and asked Helen for help. Helen knew all the kiddy shrinks, there were a few at Matties and a few fancier ones further out of town. Helen had given her names and then made arrangements for the girls to visit the chosen one.

They’d had two appointments so far. Patsy hadn’t gone in with the girls because the shrink, a motherly looking woman in violently pink glasses and a Mohawk, told her it would be better without her there. Patsy had had to force herself not feel hurt by this as she’d sat in a colourfully decorated waiting room outside, staring at multi coloured beads on wires attached to a board all weaving around one another while the clock ticked away the time and her lung burned at her.

Patsy had nightmares too of course but she didn’t view these as an issue worth commenting on. Not to anyone. She reasoned she’d suffered with things for worse than a bit of light torture since she was even younger than Seppie and she knew how to ignore the welling empty feelings mostly. It was almost expected that she would cope; just a footnote in her personal story. Besides; people were already treating her too much like she was made of glass. She didn’t like being treated like some hapless victim so she chose to keep her issues under wraps for as long as she could. 

Patsy dreamt of Abraham a lot which made her angry. She would always be trapped somehow, a chair or a bed or suspended over thin air all over again and he would laugh at her while the girls or Delia or Helen or Val, it changed so often that it was hard to keep track, burned to death in front of her. Then she’d hear his ringing laughter as the glint of the hook shone in the air, the sharpened edge sparkling more than it had in real life and Patsy would wake up drenched in sweat, scrambling to press at the healing line of stitches at her chest just to prove to herself it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real and it was over. 

Would it ever be over though? Would she ever forget the damage and the pain Abraham had inflicted on her? Somehow Patsy doubted it and that made her more determined to help the girls. To stop her future becoming theirs. To cut the circle dead.

Back in the moment and content that the house wasn’t going to get any tidier without some serious assistance from a squad of heavy duty fairies Patsy stumped into the living room and slouched on the sofa. Allowing herself ten luxurious minutes of time to herself. She was knackered, the tiredness sucked at her legs and made them foreign.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d have on her own to do this. Helen had mentioned the cinema and Seppie had nearly exploded from excitement. Even Fern had been hard pressed not to bob up and down at the offer. Patsy didn’t know if Seppie had been to the cinema before and she probably should have gone with them but Helen had been firm. She was getting her nana act on and Patsy wasn’t invited. So there.

Patsy stared up at the ceiling, her eyes heavy as a yawn stretched along the muscles in her jaw, unable to find Helens mandate particularly hard to bare. God, she wouldn’t mind a nap. Was it boring to have a nap on a Friday afternoon? Was this something mums did? Patsy snorted trying to imagine herself as a traditional Mum collecting the kids and complaining about her husband like some of the bints on tv. It didn’t suit her. Damned before she’d even started on that score. 

The cushions on the sofa swelled around her and sucked at her hips. She felt like she was floating, her eyes closed and she fell into sleep, too heavy to dream of anything.

Knock.... Knock?

Patsys eyes slammed open, her heart racing as her ears picked up the faint strains of noise. She woke disoriented, the shadows had crept along the walls as the sun moved while she slept and the change of light scared her. For a moment she was terrified as she stared around confusedly.

The girls. Where were the girls?

Sweat broke out on her back and she tried to sit up but gravity is a harsh mistress to someone whose only half awake. The tricky business of ungangly confusion was coupled with physical setbacks. Patsy tried to grip the arm of the sofa but her hand slipped off because of her bastard finger turning up to the party a little behind proceedings like the weird bloke at a rave with a mullet and a packet of frozen sausages no one wants to eat. In the end it was only with a fair amount of swearing that Patsy managed to get back to two feet by which point common sense had returned. Sort of. She knew who she was and where she was, the girls were out with Helen and they were safe. She’d been caught napping that was all.

Knock knock.

Patsy blinked and tried to rub her brain back up to pique functioning with her fingers at her temples as she frowned at the noise. It was probably Trixie with the now obligatory bottle of wine. The blonde was spending more and more time here, spending too many nights splayed out on Patsys sofa where she’d passed out. 

Patsy was trying to do her best as a good friend and God knew she wanted to help Trixie deal with things but it was a hard slog. Patsy couldn’t really tell if Trixie wanted to try and make her marriage work or not, she seemed to yo yo between wishing Tom would burn to death in a freak volcano accident and just wishing he’d come home and sweep her off her feet. Tom was spending just as much time out of the house as Trixie apparently which was pissing Trixie off no end. Patsy had gotten very used to Trixie seething over the injustice of a parish priest slipping away from the vicarage to see his “new bit of fluff.” 

Patsy was spending increasingly long periods of time not giving her own opinions. It wasn’t easy being partisan and if it all had to come down to the wire then Trixie would win by a mile over Tom but as for Barbara... Well, besides being a bit naive, she didn’t actually seem so bad. Phyllis was terribly fond of her and the northerner clucked at Helen over the schoolyard activities when she thought Patsy wasn’t around to overhear her. Tom was the one who needed to sort himself out, he was the one who’d broken his promise after all. 

Trixie came mostly to Patsy for sympathy and Patsy found it nice to be the balanced one for once. It felt good to put her own issues to one side and not think about them. So she didn’t much mind the prospect of an afternoons vent as she strolled through the house to answer the calling knock.

She forced her face into a sleepy grin of greeting as she opened the door to her friend.

Then she froze.

Not Trixie.

Not Trixie. Someone altogether better.

Patsy fought the urge to rub at her eyes to make sure she was properly awake. Felt like she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming surely because suddenly there She was, as though magicked here by Patsys thoughts, a foot away from Patsys door; Delia Busby in the flesh. 

Fucking finally.

Patsy stared at her, a wave of longing engulfing her without warning so powerfully she thought her legs might buckle. Delia stared too, her face very pale and her hands clasped behind her back like a child caught out in a dare. Stood out in the postage stamp sized front garden. Lost and found.

“Pats?” 

Delia had spoken and it made something inside Patsy unravel. A knot that had been tangling tighter with the time apart finally pulled free. Patsy drank the sight of Delia in, the moment paused. What she saw concerned her greatly because when Patsy ignored the desire to talk about the blue of her eyes she saw the bags beneath them. Delia looked bloody terrible; her hair was dull and she looked like she’d lost weight but she was still Delia. Her curving cheek pinching in the hollow of a dimple and her fringe dangling over her eyes. Delias eyes picked at Patsy in return, a curiosity burning there as they watched each other in silence. Then-

“Where on Earth have you been?” Patsy knew as soon as she said it that she sounded like an idiot. She couldn’t stop herself though, behind the pleasure was a facet of anger that had been festering in her over the last few weeks. She wanted the answer to that question. 

Delia wavered in front of Patsy, her mouth pressing together, her chin pointing downwards.

“I didn’t know if it would be alright... Me coming round but the term ended and I wanted to- To see you.” Delia spoke shyly, her eyes downcast like she’d been practicing what she wanted to say for a while. Patsy eyed her, her heart thumping unevenly.

“The girls aren’t here, Helens taken them out for the day.” Patsy didn’t know why she was explaining this. Maybe she wanted to give Delia a nudge to let her know that they wouldn’t be overheard... If they needed quiet that was.

“I know.’ Delia mumbled to her feet, her lips curving just a little bit. ‘Phyllis told me this morning, she said I should come and see you.”

Ahh, Patsy understood the impromptu pep talk now. Helen had always been a sharp one; the two of them had been tag teamed apparently.

“Well then you’d better come in... I could make us a cup of tea.” Patsy hated the formal tinge to her tone and forced her face to look inviting while inside she felt a bit queasy. ‘I’ll even stretch to giving you a few fingers if you like.” 

Delias head snapped up so fast she looked like a puppet with the strings pulled. 

“What?” She asked in a higher voice than normal and Patsy realised what she’d said at once, her face burning as she hurried to correct herself.

“Chocolate fingers! Not... Not anything else. I wasn’t- I didn’t mean- Oh, come in won’t you. I’m not going to do anything I promise.” Patsy stepped back and held open the door praying Delia would follow. After a moments hesitation she did so but as she brushed past Patsy could have sworn she heard the Welshwoman mumble something like ‘yeah but I might’ under her breath.

Patsy faffed her way into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle, wanting something to do with her hands as Delia perched on the nearest seat, her hands safely flattened out on the table top.

“Two sugars thanks.” Delia supplied expressionlessly from her chair and Patsy nodded like she needed to be told though she already knew the information. 

When the drinks were poured, the promised biscuits stacked uneaten on the table and the teabags plopped in the bin they sat together, neither speaking as they let themselves soak in the feeling of being together again. The air formal and uncomfortable for it.

Patsy wished she could have a cigarette right now. Her hands twitched against the ceramic mug clenched between them, her elbows digging painfully into the sharp table edge. She felt Delia watching her out the corner of her eye and tried to edge her missing finger out of the line of sight. Conscious that she wasn’t what she had been when they’d last been together in any normal capacity. Conscious that this was probably one of the most important conversations of her life.

“Your hair,’ Delia said eventually in a distant, sleep walking voice. ‘I’d forgotten that he cut your hair.”

“Oh,’ Patsys hand flickered uselessly to her head and rubbed at the untameable fuzz there. Her hair was growing back but there wasn’t anything to be done about forcing it to do so faster. Helen had said she looked dashing for it which was such a Mum thing to say and Patsy assumed meant she looked like a sword fighter from some story who wore a lot of suspect tight trousers. She wasn’t all that enamoured with the image herself and knew that Delia had liked her hair before. ‘It’s only hair, it’ll grow back.” She offered hoping Delia would see the truth in it.

“It’s blonde.” Delia said with a spark of interest.

“It’s short I know.” Patsy replied apologetically, hating that Delia was right as Delia ran a nervous thumb over the rim of her cup.

“I like it.’ She admitted shyly, ‘I wish it hadn’t happened the way it did but I imagine you could have a mullet and still pull it off. You’re... It’s beautiful.”

Patsy laughed, relief making her stomach flutter. Delia liked the hair? Delia thought she was beautiful? Suddenly the room felt hot as though the sunshine had burnt holes in the wall and was worming it’s way into Patsys very bones.

“I was worried it might put you off when you saw it.” Patsy admitted, her tongue heavy as she winced at her own words. She needed to stay cool. Delia had only said she liked her hair.

“How’s your chest healing?” Delia appeared to be running through a mental checklist, her voice taught and official.

Patsy shrugged and reached to unbutton the top two buttons of her shirt. She felt a swell of pleasure when Delia followed the movements carefully; enjoying the knowledge that Delia might want to see. Patsy peeled away the fabric to show Delia the vivid line of black stitches etched over the still puffy and bruised wound. It was a messy thing but she could have looked even worse in Chummys morgue right now. She’d have the mother of all scars. Delias throat moved as she swallowed and then her hands were moving, the tips of her fingers gliding over the revealed line carefully. Inspecting it with all the authority of a general lining up troops.

The hairs on Patsys neck stood on end and her heart sped up faster. She was tempted to lean closer. Wanted Delia to touch her for as long as she wanted because that would stop all of it hurting, just Delia being close. Delia removed her hand though and her eyes moved to Patsys injured finger where it was resting on the table nonchalantly.

“And that? Have they given you some support? Physio for your grip and everything?” Delia sounded too much like a nurse and Patsy clenched her hand to hide the offending finger from view as smoothly as she could.

“They gave me exercises.” She said placidly like it didn’t matter. 

“Which you’re doing every day I assume?” Delia asked with the shadow of her old wit. Patsy waggled her eyebrows.

“Every morning before my prayers, cross my heart miss Busby.”

Delia finally grinned at this and they stared at each other, the awkwardness momentarily vanquished for half a second before Delia caught herself and back looked down at her mug. Patsys fingers twitched again at this and she cast about for something to make Delia look at her like she just had. She felt itchy inside.

“You helped with the house, Fern told me. Thank you for that. It meant a lot.”

“It was nothing,’ Delia ducked her head, ‘I needed to get rid of a few things anyway and I knew you’d need them. Seemed silly not to.”

“Still a nice surprise... The bed was-“ 

“You’ve made it really homey here Pats. I’m impressed. The girls were so excited to show it to you. Did you like it? I tried to pick things that suited you but I know it’s probably a bit shabby.” Delia was a little too bright now, Patsy noted the refusal to discuss the bed. It annoyed her.

“No it’s perfect. I only wish you’d been there to see me come home.” Patsy tried to keep the accusation out of her voice but Delia still winced.

“I didn’t know what to say to you.” Delia admitted as though the words were being dragged from her. Patsy frowned.

“You could have said I’m glad you’re okay.” This time Patsy couldn’t keep the hurt at bay and Delia looked up at her, hearing it in Patsys voice. She looked like she wanted to cry somehow.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” Delia whispered with feeling and Patsy deflated, annoyed at herself for even bringing it up.

Petty thing to do.

“I’m going to paint in here,’ Patsy gestured at a magnolia expanse of wall above the cooker, wanting to change the subject, ‘I thought... I thought yellow. I wanted a reminder of you here, I thought you might like it.”

“Sounds lovely... I’ll give you the rest of the pot if you want, I won’t be needing it after all.”

“You’re moving aren’t you? Phyllis told me.” Patsy felt it was important to add that last bit, she didn’t want Delia to think she was stalking her. Delia blinked at Patsy slowly.

“I... Yes I am. I sort of had to.”

“Was it the mortgage?”

“No not really,’ Delia sighed and swigged at her tea tiredly. ‘Just too big for one person and besides, I never really liked it all that much anyway. Jess picked it and there were too many memories I didn’t want to think about. I think I’ll rent for a bit.”

“You haven’t got somewhere else sorted yet?” Patsy asked intently already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Delia. Delia shook her head.

“Not yet, it’s hard to find anywhere. Most of the houses are holiday homes and I can’t afford that kind of fee, not on my own anyway. All the proper rentals all seem to go to locals, it’s always someone’s neighbors cousin who owns the place and they all seem to be holding out for someone they know really well.” Delia took another swig, temporarily distracted from hers and Patsys issues by the intricacies of small town living. Patsy hesitated as a thought occurred to her.

“So you don’t have any leads at all yet?” She double checked cagily, the palms of her hands sweating slightly. 

“No,’ Delia sighed, ‘not yet.”

“Then that settles it, you’ll have to just stay with me.” The words were out before Patsy could decide if she wanted them that way or not. Delia froze in surprise and nearly choked on her hastily sipped tea.

“W-What?” She spluttered.

“I mean it. You could stay here.’ Patsy suggested more firmly now with too much ill concealed hope for her own comfort, ‘it’s a big enough place for you and the girls would like it. I’m- I’m sure of it; they’ve asked me about you the last few weeks. They like you and they’re not an easy audience.” Patsy stalled, her cheeks burning. Patsy liked Delia too, more than liked her in fact, but she worried about saying that. Very much. Too much. She eyed the white slip of Delias fingers where they nestled around the stem of her steaming mug and remembered their last night alone. Those soft hands in hers. 

“Stay... Here? With you? In this house?” Delia had finally looked up at Patsy, her expression faintly bemused as she wiped tea off the front of her top. Patsy nodded encouragingly.

“It would make sense, I mean the schools only five minutes away for you and it would be no trouble to us, we’re still settling in ourselves at the minute so a few more boxes wouldn’t disturb the place.” Patsy saw it all then in her minds eye, she saw what life might be like, coming home to her girls and Delia. A family she had only ever considered in her most wistful glooms a few months ago. All completely possible now.

“Come on... I can’t stay here Pats.’ A tiny smile pulled at the corners of Delias mouth despite her sad eyes. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Besides; it’s too small for all of us.”

“No it wouldn’t be, listen. No, seriously hear me out.’ Patsy raised a finger in excitement, ignoring the warning thrum in her belly as Delia tracked her movements warily while her thumbs dug a little firmer into her mug so that her splayed knuckles stood out clearly on her lightly tanned hands. ‘You could have my bed upstairs, it’s yours anyway by rights in the first place and I’ll take the sofa down here. It’s comfy enough and I can’t sleep a full night at the minute anyway so it won’t affect me.”

“You’ll sleep downstairs?’ Now Delia really was smiling but there was an edge to it, a chill Patsy wanted to melt away. ‘Pats come on... We’d be a walking joke if we did that. You know the joke don’t you; what do our lot do on a second date? We can’t just move in after everything that’s happened.” 

“Why not? Who cares about what other people think Delia,’ Patsy couldn’t stem the excitement, she felt giddy, some invisible threshold breached. ‘They can think whatever they want to, it won’t bother us if we don’t let it. Besides, it makes sense, you need somewhere new and isn’t that what this is? This could be your new thing too and we... It might be nice, being under one roof.”

“And you’ll sleep downstairs and I’ll be up there?” Delia nodded at the door that hid the stairs meaningfully, her tone almost exasperated. Patsy nodded, her mouth dry as she forced her fingers not to twitch and give her anxiety away.

Patsy had never done this before; she’d never made herself so open to someone. So available and bare. With Val it had been a kind of hint and then a single plea when she’d known it wouldn’t work... But Patsy wanted Delia and she didn’t care if she looked needy or pathetic; Delia wouldn’t judge her for it. Patsy had finally found what she’d been looking for all these years. Was it love? Patsy thought so, she stared at the short dark haired woman sitting across from her and her heart ached. Delia just made the world brighter even now when she wasn’t so bright herself. Delia was a kind of pull, a specific brand of gravity that Patsy felt drawn to. She was drawn to her now and Patsy, for the first time in her life, didn’t want to fight it, she wanted to fall and for Delia to fall with her.

“It might work.” Patsy finished quietly realising the pause had been a beat too long as Delia watched her. Waiting.

Delia puffed in her cheeks and then blew out a thin stream of air as a tiny hint of dimple peppered her smooth round cheek. It was gone in a flash but her lips turned up at the corners and she sighed.

“No...’ Delia spoke very deliberately, her voice strained with embarrassment or worry Patsy couldn’t tell. ‘That won’t work Pats, not like that... I couldn’t be up there. I couldn’t live in the same house as you and not-‘ She bit her lip as she pulled her hands free of her mug at last and tousled her fringe absentmindedly while she considered her words. Her neck was very pink and she didn’t meet Patsys eye. ‘Not be with you. Properly I mean. We’d- You’re- God it’s all coming out wrong... ‘ Delia took a steadying breath before starting again, still smiling strangely, embarrassed at her own honesty. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I’m... so bloody attracted to you. I just wouldn’t be able to live like friends- not with you. Not with you downstairs. I wouldn’t make it up there, I’d have to- I’d lose it. I want you too much. 

You make my brain stop working sometimes; when you were at mine after the beach the whole time I didn’t know what I was doing, the whole situation was insane. I should have taken you to the hospital, you could’ve died in my bed but you asked me to help and I didn’t want to let you down. It’s crazy. You make me crazy. I can’t look at you and not- it scares me because I’ve never been like this before. I’ve had girlfriends before Jess and even when I was with Jess it was never- I never wanted any of them like I want you.”

Patsy realised vaguely that she wasn’t breathing, her mouth was open in shock and her injured lung stabbed at her ribs painfully in a stark rebuff for the lack of attention but she ignored it like it was background noise. She didn’t care about her ribs when Delia fucking Busby was saying... Saying all of this to her. Delia wanted her back. A swell of something sweet filled Patsys chest more powerfully than her wrecked respiratory system. Slowly, moving like an old woman, Patsy reached over and plucked Delias hand free from the table where it was gripping the end hard. She pulled it back and entwined their fingers together. It was her good hand and as their knuckles brushed Patsy felt that pull again. That unique gravity.

“I feel the same way.’ Patsy admitted hoarsely, barely believing that she was daring to say it at all. Never. She would have never said this to someone else. ‘I think about you all the time; I’ve missed you... So much. I think we could work; you and me. I want to try, I want you just as much Delia and, and if we don’t try...’ Patsy remembered Helens words earlier and couldn’t help but smirk. ‘I think we’ll regret it. This sort of thing doesn’t happen all the time does it? It never has for me, not until I met you.”

Delia licked her lips nervously and squeezed Patsys fingers for a moment with her own before pulling them out of reach, retreating. 

That hurt. That pull stuttered in Patsys chest and the itchy need to lay everything on the table intensified. She had to make Delia see, she just had to. 

Because if she didn’t-

“I want to be with you Delia.’ Patsy was too rushed now, pushy. ‘I want you and... I think, after everything... I think I might be falling in lo-“

“Don’t!’ Delia ordered suddenly angry through gritted teeth, a vein pulsing in her forehead as she clenched her fist. She looked disgusted and Patsy felt the rest of her words die in her throat but Delia wasn’t finished. ‘Don’t say it. Don’t put us through it.”

“Put us through what?” Patsy asked non plussed, hurt despite the logical part of her brain reminding her that Delia had been through the wringer herself. Patsy knew what betrayal felt like; how would she react to Delia pulling a Jessie? She trained her features to try and seem calm and all the while she burned. Delia leaned back in her seat and rested her hands on her lap, her fingers danced on her knees and almost begged Patsy to take them. When Delia finally looked up; her face was mocking and it didn’t suit her.

"How are you Pats? I mean really, how are you?" Delia had dropped her calm facade now. She looked like someone holding herself together with the thinnest of strings.

"I'm- I'm fine." Patsy pushed the edge of impatience she felt growing aside; she didn’t want to talk about herself, there wasn’t enough time. She just wanted Delia to talk to her.

"Ha ha." Delia still wouldn’t catch her eye, her mouth turned down at the corners.

"No honestly; I'm okay.’ Patsy paused as Delia shook her head disbelievingly at this and decided she needed to try a little more openness, needed to draw out the poison. ‘I mean, yeah, I'm constantly exhausted and the kids are messy which is driving me mad because I can't clean properly and the book shelf isn't alphabetised anymore because Fern keeps putting them back in the wrong way round but apart from that I can't really complain."

"Can't you?" Delia grumbled, her eyes bitter and hard as she glared in front of her. Her hands were gripping her knees too tightly, she’d hurt herself if she didn’t let go. Patsy wanted to get up and release the death grip but she was afraid of what would happen if she did. She didn’t know if Delia would want that control taken from her.

"Ursula's given me 10 weeks paid sick leave. I've been doing a lot of thinking; trying to work things out. It's been helpful, I'm trying at least. I think...’ Patsy let air whistle through her mouth as she bolstered her failing nerves. She wished Delia would give her a clue about whether this was working but the Welshwoman just glared ahead of her as though daring the world to try her any further. ‘I think I always knew he'd come for me one day,’ Patsys chest throbbed unconsciously at the mere mention of Abraham, the ghost of pain. ‘I always knew I couldn't set down any real roots just in case, but now...’ Patsy shrugged and felt again the strangeness that came with the absense of the fear she’d held for years. ‘Well, there's no rules anymore is there? No more fear. No big threat, I can... I can do all the things I haven't done before."

"And what if not all those things aren’t good for you Pats? What if they don't work out like you want them to? What happens to you then?" Delias foot was making tiny circles on the floor. Patsy watched it, hypnotised as it went round and round and round.

"I think I'm ready to take a few risks...” Patsy said with as much calmness as she could manage. It was an understatement; she’d never wanted to take a risk so much; she’d never wanted someone like she wanted Delia.

It should terrify her. It was terrifying really but she couldn’t feel it as she sat in her still new kitchen with her still new love.

“It hurts... When it doesn’t work out. It really hurts.” Delia was still staring out ahead of her, still seeing something Patsy could only blindly guess at. 

“Not always.’ Patsy argued gently, screwing up her courage as tight as it would go. ‘I think we could do it. I think we could be something... If we both try, why wouldn’t it?”

“You sounds like Jessie.’ Delia blew out the breath she’d been holding. Her foot turning faster and faster as she sunk into her thoughts. ‘She used to tell me to try... She used to say a lot of things. I still don’t know when she decided I wasn’t trying enough, can’t remember when it all started going wrong. She used to-‘ Delias eyes blurred for a second but she didn’t stop as she wiped at them distractedly, shaking her head. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter but... What if it ends the same? You and me? What if I’m wrong about everything again? What if we’re bad for each other? What if I’m bad for you?”

“Look, I'm sorry that this happened; Jessie, Abraham. I'll never stop regretting that you were pulled into my crap." Patsy suddenly felt as though the moment was slipping away from her. She was losing Delia and she couldn’t let it happen.

"Don't.' Delia said quickly looking haunted. 'Don't apologise to me, I can't bare it. It wasn't your fault, you didn't do anything. You didn't bring someone into your life, into this town who was capable of- You didn't do anything. You’re smart and you're... Perfect. You're perfect and I'm not. I missed the fact that I was living with a complete psychopath. I can't even trust my own judgement anymore."

"That's not true.’ Patsy disagreed firmly. ‘How could you have known? Delia, you haven't done anything wrong and I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine."

"How? How can you be fine! How can you even invite me into your home! How can you say anything to me!’ Delia was twisting in her seat, her voice shrill as she tugged distractedly on her hair too hard. ‘After everything he did to you? Everything Jessie did to you?”

"I-' Patsy swallowed, wanting to put her arm around Delias shoulder and pull her in closer, to hold her in the here and now just to remind her that the danger was passed but she didn’t. She knew too well that these sort of feelings didn’t stop existing with a hug. She’d been here before; bought the t-shirt. 'I just am okay, this isn't my first time dealing with things like this and no one died for me.... Compared to last time it was... No one died that I'll miss anyway."

There was an awkward pause as Delia sucked in a shocked breath, her eyes filling with immediate tears that took them both by surprise.

"Jessie died." Delia mumbled, trying not to let her uninvited grief fall. Patsy flailed where she was, mentally kicking herself for being so unthinking.

Fucks sake. Remove foot any time you like Pats.

“Yes, she did.” Patsy said in a stilted kind of voice.

“She died in my arms.” Delia whispered.

"I know... And it's not a bad thing to be sad about that Delia.’ Patsy wasn’t going to waste any tears over Jessie but even so, Delia had been with her for a long time. Love wasn’t a switch or a door you could turn at will, it wasn’t sensible. ‘You told me grief is grief didn't you? Well, this is sort of the same thing."

"It's not though! It’s so complicated.’ Delia sniffed sounding a little relieved at Patsys response even as she wiped her cheeks with shaky fingers. ‘She wasn't always... She wasn't always bad you know. She had her good points; I swear I wouldn't have stayed with someone like that if I'd known but... Now though, it's hard to see things clearly."

Patsy took a breath, head tilting like she was listening to the silence between them. Delia rubbed her eyes.

“If you ever want to talk to someone... I know people. People who are nice.” Patsy offered thinking the therapists of Poplar must be having the equivalent of a lottery win thanks to her families fuckery.

“Like a shrink?” Delia asked looking shocked at the offer. Patsy pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, trying to get some levity back in the room.

“Would it honestly surprise you at all to know that I’ve met a few over the course of my life?”

“No.’ Delia said with a grudging flash of dimples again. ‘I’m more surprised you don’t live in their offices really... I just don’t think I could do it, talk to a stranger I mean. It’s probably my mams influence, it’s too deep, you don’t air dirty laundry like that.”

“Well... If you don’t want a stranger then maybe you could talk to Helen. She really took to you and she’s a good listener. She’s always helped me.”

“I don’t know if talking to your mother would be entirely healthy Pats.” Delias lips twitched again ruefully this time. Patsy gazed at her carefully, Delias nose was red and her cheeks were bloodless but she was beautiful. She shouldn’t be this damn lovable. Patsy wanted stupid things with this woman.

“Then maybe... You could talk to me?’ Patsy suggested nervously, reaching to rub a thumb over the back of Delias hand gently. ‘I’ll listen to you. I won’t judge you.”

“I know you won’t.’ Delia said softly and Patsy was gratified to know she didn’t pull away a second time straight away. ‘I don’t know why but I know that much.” 

“Stay here... With me.” Patsys mouth was too dry as she pleaded and Delia hovered for a moment, the story balanced on the finest of knife edges but-

“No. I need to go away. I need to think.’ Delia pulled her hand away again firmly. Patsy bit her lip too hard and tasted the copper tang of blood as her stomach seemed to curl in two when the words registered. Go. Delia was going. ‘My mam wants me home; she’s been calling me. A lot.’ Delia smiled like she’d made a funny joke. ‘Had to agree to visit just to stop her getting in the car. Think I’ll.... I’ll stay there for a few weeks, convince her I’m not about to do something stupid.”

“Then?” Patsy asked helplessly.

“Then... An old uni friend was trying to get me to join this bike trip in the Peak District. I said no when she asked a few months back but now... I think a few weeks on the bike not talking a lot might be just what I need. Time to clear my head.”

“But then you’ll come back?’ Patsy enquired with trepidation, wishing that Delia would meet her eyes. Wishing Delia wouldn’t do this. Wishing she, Patsy, was enough to make someone stay for once. ‘You will come back won’t you?” 

Delia groaned and swiped at her mug, trying to rein back control of the situation. Her hand shook as pulled it to her mouth. She didn’t drink anything. Too anxious.

“I don’t... I don’t know.”

“So what are you trying to tell me Delia?” Patsys fingers were twitching again but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Delia right now.

“I... I’m so tired Pats... I just need some space to not be here.”

“But what about us?” Patsy wished she didn’t sound so pathetic. She hated that she was allowing herself to be like this. Delia rubbed her hands over her face, she looked as exhausted as Patsy felt.

“Oh it’s never going to work Pats.’ Delia looked resigned now. Frustrated and spent. ‘It’s too hard. Too many threads. I keep trying to sort things out in my head, I really do. I’ve wanted to see you the second you woke up but I knew if I did then I’d just make a mistake.”

It felt like the bottom had been kicked out of Patsys world. She felt lightheaded, her chest burned and she felt the changes to her body more keenly, she felt broken somehow.

“I’m not a mistake.” Patsy didn’t entirely believe what she was saying but she felt she had to say it anyway. Surely to God someone had to agree with her. Delia shuddered in her chair.

“Of course you’re not,’ Delia nearly wailed, her face a mask of exasperation like Patsy was the one who wasn’t making sense, ‘of course you’re not Pats. You’re not a mistake, you wouldn’t be, it’s just not the right time. Jessie’s only just died and-“

“Trying to kill you.” Patsy retorted harshly. Delia flinched but she didn’t start crying again, her face was resolute. Patsy wanted to shake her, wanted to force her to change her mind but she could see it in Delias face. She’d already decided.

“It’s for the best.” She said tonelessly and Patsy didn’t believe her. Not for one second.

“You can’t mean that...’ Patsys legs were bouncing like they didn’t belong to her. ‘You’re scared and I get that, I really do, but you don’t mean that and we both know it.”

“I think I should go.” Delia was getting to her feet stiffly and Patsy followed suit at once, too amped up to stay seated and watch this woman talk her way out of this.

“No, you can’t! Please.” Patsys eyes stung with tears and she’d trade any feeling she’d had in the past for these ones. She’d give anything. She’d take Abraham on all over again if Delia would only stay.

“If I stay we’ll only argue and I don’t want to fight with you. I have to go; if I stay-“

“What if I beg you to stay!’ Patsy was shouting, wishing she still had hair left to pull out as Delia stopped dead. ‘What if I get on my knees right now and beg you not to walk away?”

“Don’t do that,’ Delia shrunk away, her cheeks reddening, ‘Pats, please don’t do that.”

“But I have to do something! I can’t let you go like this can I, I just can’t. Stay. Please Delia, please stay.” Patsy didn’t know who she was anymore, the worming sting of rejection was cutting her deeper than ever before and all she could do was rebel, there wasn’t space in her head to feel ashamed or bashful, sometimes all you could do was fight.

“Don’t ask me that!” Delia looked just as raw and Patsy could only take it and run. It told her there was doubt.

Hope.

“Why the hell not!” Patsys fist banged a staccato rhythm on the table making them both flinch. The blood had drained from Delias cheek and for a moment she looked angry, so angry that Patsy was felled by it. 

“Because I will stay if you do that that’s fucking why!’ Delia had stopped, twirling on her heel to face Patsy. Her chest heaving like she’d run a long way to get here. ‘I can’t be reasonable around you Patience. I’ll stay here if you ask me enough and I’ll move in because I want to do it as much as you do and we’ll be happy for a bit maybe but then it’ll all go wrong in the end.’ Delia started to advance towards Patsy, her body shaking and Patsy met her step for step but she didn’t interrupt her. She didn’t dare. 

‘I need to go! I have to get away from Poplar! I haven’t been on my own since I was twenty years old for Gods sake. I need to work out who I am, I don’t even bloody feel like I know that right now, I need to be on my own before I rush into something else and you and me won’t ever be casual Pats. I can’t be near you and not want you! Don’t you fucking see how screwed up everything is? Jessie’s dead and I should be grieving but all I can think about... All I can concentrate on is you and it’s so wrong! I feel sick with it all.”

Delia was hovering a hands breadth away and Patsy glared at her. Infuriated that the world could kick her in so many ways.

“You’re in my dreams.’ Patsy rumbled, her heart breaking. ‘I don’t want anyone else... Please.”

“I can’t... Not yet, you don’t get it Pats. I don’t do casual. I do forevers and if I give in to you now... that’s what I’ll want.” Delia spoke like she’d finally stumbled on the part that was bugging her worst of all. Patsy almost laughed out loud.

Helen had told her to lay it all out on the table, well she couldn’t do better than this could she?

“But you can have that. I can do that! I’m right here Delia, I’m right here and I’m asking you to-“

“And if I do stay,’ Delia went on flatly, like Patsy hadn’t said a word. ‘I’ll resent you for making me stay Pats. I need to do this, I need this time to just be on my own and if you stop me then no matter what happens I’ll always wonder what if and I don’t want to think that with you... I just need some time.”

“But you’ll come back?”

“I want to.”

“To me?” Patsy ground her teeth together, feeling the taste of tooth on her tongue.

“I want to.” Delia said again, her face full of uncertainty. Patsy needed a moment to think, she wanted to pace but stopped herself. The sick twisting certainty that she’d already lost engulfed her painfully. She groaned and gave herself up to the short term but she couldn’t just leave it like this. She couldn’t.

“Fine, if you need to go then go and I’ll wait for you and when you get back we can-“

“Pats.” Delia interrupted wearily, looking troubled but Patsy pushed on, giving up on staying still.

“I’ll wait for as long as you need. I’ll wait and when you’re ready then I’ll be here.”

“That’s not what I- Pats I don’t expect you to do that for me. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Patsy said mulishly and Delia closed her eyes as though praying for patience. The wrong bloody kind of Patience.

“It won’t work.’ She said eventually, hopeless enough for them both. ‘Come on Pats, we both know people like you don’t choose people like me in the end. It’s doomed.”

“What the hells thats supposed to mean?” It was like falling but it didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. Patsy couldn’t get her breath. Couldn’t see a way to fix this.

“You know what I mean.’ Delia folded her arms over her chest stiffly, ‘I’ll bet there’s a line round the door waiting for you right now. In a few months time you’ll have forgotten all about me.”

“I won’t! I mean it, I’ll be right here. I don’t want anyone else, I can do waiting you know.”

“Okay, fine, you’ll wait.” Delia said it calmly enough but Patsy knew she was only appeasing her. She felt the snap of anger bite at her. Patsy meant it, every word like she’d never meant it before and she hated that Delia didn’t trust her. She had to make her listen.

Patsy took the distance between them in two angry steps and gripped Delias t-shirt in both hands so she couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Delia watched her carefully, not scared but not certain either.

“I’ll wait for as long as I need to. I’ll wait for you because I’ve gone long enough to find you. Don’t you see I can wait a bit more if you need it.... Can I call you when you’re gone?”

Delia bit her lip, unwilling to give a definitive answer as Patsy stared at her.

“You could... I’d like that. Only if you want to though, you don’t have to prove something to me.”

“I know I don’t have to do it but I want to. I need to prove to you that I’m worth the risk and if this is the only thing you’ll give me...’ Patsy bit her cheek bracingly. Leaping at the tiniest of windows. ‘I don’t know what else I can say that’ll make you believe I’m in this. I’m already in this... I’ve been going crazy waiting to see you.”

“I know... I’m sorry.” 

“Delia,’ Patsy groaned, her hands tightening on Delias shoulders as she forced herself to stay in some semblance of sanity. These bloody women. Who knew it would be this one to rip Patsys heart open. ‘What am I supposed to say to that?”

Delia titled her head and looked Patsy square on, the sadness tinging her face and making it strangely thin. She took a steadying breath and failed to make a smile.

“Well...’ She said slowly, her breath catching in her mouth, the rr’s extending in stress. ‘You’re supposed to say; meet me again, write to me. Let’s pick up again where we left off... I hope you will.”

Patsy wilted at so much soppiness and tried to grin through her dismay.

“Can’t I just say come back?” She asked, her disappointment all too noticeable and Delia paused, thinking about it before nodding slowly.

To Patsys surprise it was that that seemed to be enough, she’d finally said the right thing because Delia changed at the moment. Looking as though something had been settled between them and finally, finally, Delia stood on tip toes to brush a kiss against Patsys lips. 

It wasn’t like their first kiss. It wasn’t shy, it wasn’t explosive but it meant more. It was a promise to be kept by them both and it made Patsys hands clutch tighter, pulling Delia into her just for a second.

Just so she didn’t have to let her go yet.

Delia went willingly now, her hands moving of their own accord; one sneaking around Patsys waist while the other stroked Patsys cheek.

But it had to end didn’t it? They’d said what they could and it was with reluctance Patsy pulled away. Delia had stumbled away confused and dazed and Patsy had watched her go, her legs bunching with the desire to streak after her.

Patsy felt that kiss for a very long time after Delia had gone. She kept running her fingers across the place where their mouths had touched. It felt bruised, marked.

Delia had said she’d be back. She’d said it and all Patsy could do was wait and hope.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all but... 

Somehow, the small kiss had felt like hope and maybe that was all Patsy could demand? Wasn’t like she’d had the right to demand before now.

She’d just have to trust Delia on this one.

Patsy couldn’t stick to the house after that, all tiredness diminished and she finally ended up sat on her back step, smoking one cigarette after another instead. The smoke made the air blue and lurid as she stared at nothing in particular. Her thoughts folding into one word. One name.

The clouds chased their own question marks above her head as the hours wound their way away from her. When the sound of the front door banged open loudly to admit a squealing Fern with Seppie hanging on her shoulders Patsy was almost ready to meet real life again. She sighed in the final seconds of peace and ground the last butt against her heel as she hitched on a smile.

She’d have to wait and see what the future held apparently. For now there was the girls to see to. A life to get on with.

Delia would be back. She had to be and in the mean time Patsy would wait. It was all she could do.

-TBC-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold the phone and call the cat a bastard this particular half of the fic is finally done for now.
> 
> Okay... so it wasn’t what you wanted. I knew it wouldn’t be, I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time worrying over it. I understand that you’re probably pissed, you didn’t get a chocolate box ending but let’s just breathe. Take a pause, reset your hat/bandana/hair bobble/beret etc. It had to go down like this; I’m a realist sadly and they both needed cooling off periods. Patsys been through hell in a handbag and Delias ex has thrown her life apart. Besides; how much fun will it be with them being forced to interact at the school gates? AND it gives me the excuse to right another mammoth story so there’s that.
> 
> Spoiler alert; it’s gonna be loads of fun.
> 
> Eagle eyed readers may have noticed I’ve slot part 2s stumbling blocks into place during this chapter. #forshadowinglikeamofo.
> 
> I won’t get ahead of myself though. Let’s not live in the future eh. The end of part one concludes on an all mighty cliff hanger and perhaps a frisson of peace. I do hope you enjoyed it/were tearing your hair out a little (but in a nice way of course). Shall we get the band back together sooner rather than later? Yes? Excellent, thought you might agree somehow.
> 
> Right, so I do need to make a brief bafta acceptance speech to mark the end of this mahoosive pain in the arse story. 10 months worth of work deserves a few paragraphs of general chitter chatter I reckon so bare with me because I really do need to acknowledge a few people who matter.
> 
> Shoutouts and thank yous go to:
> 
> Sharon; thanks for reading every chapter in this and DEDE, you’ve been so constantly supportive for the last year and a half. It’s lovely to read your opinions and insights and I must also add that you’re one of the finest cyber stalkers I have ever met. She found me on insta and it’s brilliant.
> 
> Now see here who is not only an exceptional writer but also a crazy talented artist! Seriously. If you didn’t know already shes done a million brilliant what she calls ‘doodles’. Keep an eye on her people, she’s going places even if she doesn’t understand the importance of tea!
> 
> Habits and bicycles who is the best cheerleader I’ve ever met. I think I’d have been glad I went into the weird world of tumblr just to meet you.
> 
> Catching up who writes such beautifully detailed and kind comments that I tend to make a cuppa simply to read and savour the reading. Oh and I’m all about the occasional flashes of baseball metaphors you drop in.
> 
> Dihl, the lovely Dihl who manages to write more eloquently in a second language than I could do on good days in my first. 
> 
> Jeigndough who turned up one day out of the blue and commented on pretty much every chapter both here and DEDE. As a side note I also secretly think she doesn’t sleep at all, she may actually be superwoman but we’ll never know for sure. Secret identity and all that malarkey.
> 
> Bluebeetle: She’s a lovely person to hash out plots with and I appreciate being able to spill my brains to a sympathetic ear.
> 
> Manu-Darko. For you my friend I offer very special thanks indeed. Oddly I’ve not spoken a great deal with you but you took the time to draw not only one piece of art about this fic but three. (Three!) One of which looks like the coolest noir type book cover I’ve ever seen. Honestly it’s amazeballs.
> 
> Leah who has a new kitten and who also doesn’t like full moons. Big mood. Huge.
> 
> Oh and tlpursuit whose gentle prodding meant you all got this update when you did so well done to her. I was dangling in the twilight zone of uni when she sent me a post. I respond very well to polite nagging so I don’t mind the occasional prod to get on with things (just FYI) and not only is she a talented artist to boot but she can climb rocks like crazy.
> 
> Geordie11, luvPDinCA, hippie girl, oh no not us, jojo, the secret northern book club who send each other chain mail when I write smut (you know who you are), jessie, Poplar and all the others. Thank you. Thank you for commenting, thank you for being so invested in the characters and the story. Thank you to anyone who has read and not commented, knowing you guys exist is still a lovely thought and lovely thoughts were enough to make Peter Pan fly after all.
> 
> Anyhoo part 2s called returning tides and I’ll get it out to you sooner rather than later now thanks to the last month of exams and wedding prep clearing my schedule in a massive wave of stress. For those of you still hunched in the crowd, fuming at me right now, let me just mention that Returning tides is where I will attempt to fix all the shit I’ve caused without too much pain. We’ve hit our angst quota or at least I have. I’m all about veiled sarcasm and romance from here on out.
> 
> Big Lubs,
> 
> Superbanana, or, since I’m in a sharing mood, just plain old garden variety Charlie.


End file.
